


That Place Between Sleep and Awake

by Eternallost



Category: Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Captive, Childhood Memories, F/M, Growing Up, Hate to Love, Innocence, Islands, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Magic, Mermaids, Pirates, Revenge, Romance, Slow Burn, Trauma, Trust, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 47,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: Wendy escapes a loveless marriage by way of Neverland. Slow burn Wendy/Hook. What will Peter do when he finds that Wendy is neither a child nor a grown up?





	1. Chapter 1

It was one of those restless, muggy summer nights in London. A night to leave the large bay window open in hopes of a gentle breeze to rustle the hair of the three children in their separate beds; though only two were sleeping. The odd one was not even considered a child any longer, Wendy Darling was a fresh eighteen. The years had shaped her from a bud into a bloom. Her figure was as full as her lips and her curls fell between the blades on her back. But she knew naught of a woman's wiles nor did she have any desire to find out. Her heart still fluttered with the innocence of childhood. Perhaps that was why on this night of all nights, laying on her side on her last evening in her shared bedroom, she eyed the opening to the sky with an anxious ache in her heart.

As she lay in wait, she recalled that stifling afternoon with trepidation. Her mother had begun to reluctantly hand her information about proper suitors, already knowing her daughter would reject for one reason or another. Each time Wendy's slender fingers would turn the pages back across the polished table, her mum would sigh as she shook her graying head. "What am I going to do with you?" She hummed. "For someone so matronly, I thought you would be eager to start a family."

Matronly. Mother. That was right, she had so many children throughout her life, her Lost Boys and her brothers, yet none of them were her own. And she was glad for that. Now that John and Michael were attending school and properly able to take care of themselves, she felt a sense of freedom and relief that she never knew she could feel. Why should she give that up? "I'm not sure I want a family, mother." She chewed on the inside of her cheek after viewing her mother's shocked face.

"That's what life is about my dear." She cupped her daughter's cheek. "Children are the only source of true love."

"The only source?" Wendy furrowed her brows in confusion, her eyes seeking assurance of her mother's misspeaking.

Mary Darling took a seat by her now cooling tea. "Certainly." She motioned for her daughter to be seated. "Wendy, there's something I should tell you. Arranged marriage has always been the way in our family. It ensures good breeding." She grasped her daughter's cold fingers. "Love at first sight is a story." She spoke that statement quickly, taking more time in the explanation. "It takes effort and time to build a lasting connection like the one between your father and I. The only thing that comes instantly is the warmth in your heart when you hold your child in your arms." Wendy looked pale and confused. "It's free, it's easy, and it comes naturally. Nothing else in this life is like that."

Her daughter was silent for a moment. She swallowed though nothing was in her throat. "I don't believe you."

"You don't believe you'll love your children?" Her mother cocked her head to the side, becoming agitated.

"No, I believe in true love!" Wendy shook her head. "Why would it be in all of these stories if it wasn't true?"

"Wendy…" Her mother chided, "There are a lot of stories that aren't true. Still clinging to your childish notions at this age, honestly, do you still believe in fairies too?"

Wendy felt her heart drop. That was one answer she couldn't falsely give, for fear of one dropping dead from the sky. "I do." She stood upright.

"Oh sure. And flying boys and mermaids and…?" Her mother continued her tirade, focused on killing off the characters in Wendy's twelve year old tales.

Blue eyes, deep and angry as the sea that they sailed upon, flashed to her mind. "Hook!" She shouted childishly, as if it were an underlining point to her argument.

Her mother threw up her arms in frustration. "Good lord girl, am I going to have to institute you? There was a time for these stories, but that time has passed."

Wendy knew she sounded half-sane, but John and Michael were there…

"Which is why you are meeting with Mrs. Moore's son tomorrow." Her mother continued cooly. Wendy looked up at her with wide eyes. "And we're separating you from your brothers. Perhaps that should help you grow some."

"But the window…" was all Wendy could muster under the barrage of new information.

"Yes, yes. You'll have your own window in your father's old study. It's about time a young woman like you had a room of her own."

"But…"

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling!" Her mother slapped the papers on the table, sending some fluttering downward like pieces of her heart.

She could not argue sense with nonsense. "Yes." She cast her eyes toward the floor.

"Go pack your things, it'll take a day to get your new room ready." Her mother smoothed hair out of her face.

"Yes." She repeated as she turned with blurry eyes towards the steps.

She heard her mum's voice up the stairwell, "Make sure you wear that blue dress tomorrow. You know, the one that makes you look like a proper lady."

This was the reason for Wendy's agony as she stared up at cloudy sky begging for her savior from all those years ago.

Suddenly, as if an answer to her prayers, a familiar shadow crept over the window sill and she couldn't help from yelping in joy. She didn't care about the dangers of Neverland, if only she could make time stand still for one night and not face tomorrow.

The shadow crossed its legs as it perched on Michael's bed.

"Michael! John!" Wendy shouted gleefully as she ran over to hold the shadow's foot and it danced away from her. She landed atop Michael with a thud.

"Wendy!" he screeched in an annoyance, "I'm trying to sleep here!"

"What's all the racket?" John mumbled as he placed his glasses across the bridge of his nose.

"It's his shadow, Peter's shadow!" Wendy pointed emphatically.

John adjusted his glasses with a little more enthusiasm. "Where?"

"There!" Wendy followed her finger, but it was gone.

"Wendy, wasn't that just a story?" Michael was rubbing his eyes, "I mean it was a really good one, but…"

"Michael!" Wendy scoffed, "You were there!"

"The imagination is really something, isn't it?" He blinked at her with a smile.

"John?" She looked to the older brother for assistance.

He was looking down solemly at his bedspread. She knew that he had received a similar talk about adulthood from his father earlier that morning. "John?" She queried again, her voice cracking. Michael may have been too little at the time to distinguish between dreams and reality but surely her other brother…

"I think we're tired Wendy." He said as he slowly took off his glasses. "You must have dreamt it." With that, he rolled over and tucked the covers tightly around him.

"Coward." She whispered as she padded out the bedroom door.

"Hey!" John pushed the blankets off and sat up to retort, but his sister had gone from the room.

* * *

 

"He must still be around here somewhere." Wendy encouraged herself as she paced around the backyard in her nightgown. A glow illuminated the path before her. The moon must have been peeking out from the clouds. As she looked up to see if she could glimpse the stars, she recognized the familiar light was not celestial. "Tinker Bell!" She exhaled as the fairy's arch of flight came to an end on her picnic table. "Is Peter here?" Wendy asked.

Tink stuck out her tongue and shook her head. "No?" Wendy retorted, "But I saw his shadow!"

The pixie raised a tiny eyebrow and pointed at the girl mockingly, laughing in silence.

Wendy felt a slight desperation as she place her hands around the slim, doll-like body. Perhaps if the fairy was closer to her ear she could hear her. "Please, tell me what's going on? Where is he?"

Of course the little thing bit her finger. "Ouch!" Wendy released her quickly. Before she opened her eyes, the fairy was flying like a lightning bug straight into the sky. "Wait, please!" She felt her heart going after her. Was Peter alright? Was he captured and his shadow sought assistance? Of course Tink would be the last to ask for help, but she had been there too…

Her head spun as she looked down at her glowing palms. "Pixie dust." She was mesmerized by its sparkle. But, oh, it was so hard to think of a happy thought right now. A myriad of images floated to her mind as she tried to imagine her happier days in Neverland. Weren't there a lot of near death experiences? Somehow by the time she had an image of a certain pirate's broad back covered in crushed red velvet she was hovering above her yard. Which thought was it that made her fly? She wondered with laughter. She didn't care, for now she knew she was headed away from tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

"Second star to the right and straight on until morning." She assured herself with a nod. Of course she knew the way, but it was rather odd doing this by herself. Her flight gave her all the more time to think. Peter must have gotten into trouble. Why else wouldn't he visit her over the past six years? Why did she see his shadow tonight of all nights? She kept mulling it over. His ultimate enemy was Hook, and he was last seen him in the mouth of a crocodile. But, being the child that Peter was, of course he wouldn't want his enemy to die. At least not in real life. A thought made her shudder, would he only cut his hand off to make him seem more interesting? If Hook died, then he would have no one truly challenging to play with. No adversary. Unless, after Hook's death there was a new antagonist? Something about the thought made her stomach flip. She hoped the pirate captain was alive, she couldn't take any of Neverland's new surprises. It had taken her long enough to navigate the trials and tribulations of the realm before; who to trust, who to avoid. It was simple, everything flashy that caught her eye was a trap. Beauty was extremely deadly. So, she needed to check if Neverland's most ostentatious entity was still alive. If so, he would know what happened to Peter.

With that idea, the clouds opened up around her to reveal the sun rising over the lush green hills that hugged the lagoon so nicely. Something about this strange and dangerous land made her feel at home. Beneath her she spied the Jolly Roger bobbing on the waves. Was she peculiar for finding fear alluring? The warmth of recognition and achieving her goal made her descent easy as she perched in the crow's nest of the ship. Dawn must have marked the time to switch posts, for the highest spot on the ship was empty; sans for a small knife stuck into a target and an empty green glass bottle. Whoever was scouting clearly did not do a great job. She picked up the blade with gratitude, who knew what was lurking on the deck below.

"Bucky!" came the familiar baritone that sent shivers down her back. She gripped the handle a bit tighter. "Get down here before I slice you! Jarvis has been waiting on you to switch for an hour."

She tried to fly but she only made it to the tops of her toes. Looking at her palms, most of the dust had worn off. Even if it were there, it would be impossible to think of a happy thought. Wendy sat down as she tried to fight the panic and think. She had been so quick to want to leave the pressures of her own home that she neglected to truly consider what awaited her elsewhere. "Are you hard of hearing?!" Came the captain's gruff voice.

She abruptly heard a familiar cheery tone join in, "Perhaps he's had a bit much of the drink, eh cap'n?"

"Do shut up, Smee." Hook smiled as he glanced upward. His voice became softer but there was no muffling his distinct vibrato, "Something's not quite right up there. Perhaps Pan's up to something."

'Peter.' Wendy mused as her heart pumped. 'Maybe he's not aboard this ship after all…'

She didn't hear the adept pirate captain climbing the rigging towards her loft as she debated her escape from the narrow spot. She saw the morning sun reflect from his hook and instinctively leaned forward with her dagger. He found it pointing at his throat before he could bring down his arm.

He looked at the figure before him, her honey curls blowing like the black flag below them. Her cherubic face did not match her determined eyes that were searching him, burrowing beneath his skin. The sheer white fabric of her nightgown did little to hide the peaks and valleys beneath as it clung to her in the breeze. "Well what do we have here?" He purred, "I didn't know we had creatures such as angels in Neverland."

She flushed indignantly. "I doubt you'll ever have the opportunity to see one, Hook."

"You know me?" Hook sought her eyes for answers, finding a familiarity there that he couldn't quite place. It reminded him of a home he'd long since forgotten.

"Yes, I know you." She pressed the blade under his chin.

"Careful, love." He cringed. "I don't believe you're quite certain of the damage you could do. Prithee tell me, what have I done to so obviously offend you?"

"You attempted to murder my brothers and I!" She straightened her back, making it more of a personal vendetta now that she felt Peter was in no danger from the man before her.

His head went backward, barking in laughter. "You must be mad, lass. I would do no such thing to the likes of you. Perhaps something a little more-"

She pressed forward, grabbing him by the ruffled collar. "Look upon me! You cannot say you do not know the girl you tied up to walk the plank!"

Hook fell silent as his eyes examined her face and tresses once more. "My Darling girl," he murmured in awe, "you've grown."

She didn't know why she felt relief at his statement but she let her grasp slacken and her guard was down as his hooked arm caught the blade at his throat and sent it hurling into the sea. She looked down at her only weapon in horror. Hooks smile curled like the edges of his moustache. "As I recall, Pan rather took a liking to you. I can see why now."

She suddenly felt naked beneath his gaze, clinging at her thin coverage. "Not so much as to visit me over the past six years."

"Dear me." The pirate clutched at his heart melodramatically. "How will we ever pick up the pieces?"

She found it strange that she had to suppress a laugh bubbling inside her at the captain's actions. She quickly grew composed, reminding herself that this man was a villain. "How will I ever trust you?" Her brows furrowed.

"Trust?" He too looked confused at the question. "Weren't you just digging into my jugular with something sharp?" His words were true. "You see, Wendy, was it? That's what this island does to people. Children, adults… young women… there is no discrimination or bias. Everyone is out for themselves. There has never been a need for justification of one's actions." He looked accusingly at her. "Only sweet revenge."

She was beginning to see his perspective. This capability came with time.

"What I should like to exact upon you, well… That will take some thought. But that's half the fun." He smirked.

"I would like to exact the same on you!" She scoffed.

"Well, at least we have something in common." He nodded, snaking his hooked arm around her waist.

"Let me go!" She pounded at the forearm that held her fast. How was it that he had so much strength without the use of his hand?

"Are you quite sure about that?" He leaned back on the ropes, allowing her to see the vast expanse of water beneath them. She thought she saw two beady eyes pop up and disappear beneath the grey. The fright caused her to fill her fists with his fabric, burying her head between them. "If you wanted to hold me so badly, you only need say so." He chuckled. What she wanted was to smack him right across his smug face but decided otherwise. She never wanted to touch a drop of that mermaid infested water; not to mention what else lived there. Why hadn't Peter taken better care to watch over her when she was here before? She sighed. Where was he?

"That was enough gust to fill the sails." Hook commented. "What ails you? Has Neverland become depressingly ordinary already?"

"Peter…"

He covered her mouth with the smooth steal of his hook. "Unless you have a plan to permanently end his torment of an existence- I don't want to hear another utterance of that name." She saw the familiar fire return to his cerulean eyes.

She swallowed as the cogs in her brain began turning. If Hook knew where Peter was, then he could take her to him. Of course it would have to be in his own best interest... "Perhaps I do." She crossed her arms.

He stopped on the ropes, keeping her situated between his legs as he sat into them. "What on God's green Earth would cause you to want to kill your chum?"

She looked down at him from under her lashes, pretending to have reasons all her own.

The corner of his mouth curled. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." He wrapped an arm around the rigging and stroked his beard. "Tell me, has this been in the works for, let's say, six years?"

She looked away, playing coy. He laughed in revelry; but she didn't like the menace behind it. "Careful now or you'll become a regular inhabitant like me- Red Handed Jill."

Her eyes widened at the use of the old name. The two soon landed on the deck, greeted by the ever-present first mate. "Good heavens! Cap'n, that's a lady!" Smee took off his striped cap.

"You tell me what I already know, Smee." Hook spoke through gritted teeth. "You and I are the only ones who are privy to this addition to our party for now."

Smee nodded emphatically.

"Heaven knows that those men are in need of all that she has to offer." Hook said in an aside.

"…A good story?" Wendy questioned, unsure of his meaning.

Hook let his head back with another bout of riotous laughter. Smee's chuckle was more subdued.

She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "I don't see what's so funny."

"My darling Wendy," Hook spoke as he rolled one of her curls between his forefinger and thumb, "you truly have no idea."


	3. Chapter 3

Wendy followed the captain to his quarters as the sun rose higher in the sky, changing the clouds from purple to a light pink. "Go check if Bucky skipped out early," Hook hollered back to Smee. "I bet he's below deck taking a snooze after laying waste to that bottle." He turned to point at the round, old man. "If that's so, then I want him lashed for disobeying orders." His eyes gleamed, "Make sure the men see." Smee nodded with a gulp and went to look for unfortunate Bucky. Hook turned on his heel, a man with a determination.

"Oh, I don't see why that's necessary…" The girl started.

Hook halted her with a single look. "And what do you believe would happen if I were to do else-wise?"

She bit her cherry lip, "I think the crew would follow suit with a stern warning."

"Do you now?" He leaned forward as if to examine her. "Wagging your finger at a group of rag-tag miscreants, whom have slaughtered a man for a loaf of bread; does that sound efficient?"

She turned from his gaze. "Well, when you put it that way..."

He stood in silence examining the girl that was inside of the lady before him. "This is not jolly old England, you know." He spoke in a low, human tone that she had not heard from the captain before. This caused her to look up, exploring the changing tides of his eyes. "And thank God for that." He finished as he opened the door to his alcove with a bang.

"This is where you shall be spending your days, so that Smee or I can keep a watchful eye on you." He gestured to the wide room surrounded by windows framing the sea. By the light of the morning, she could see a chest next to a wooden desk covered in paper and curled maps. A closed telescope and some other gadgets were keeping everything in its place as the boat swayed beneath their feet. The lanterns above swung along. A globe sat on the side of the desk, near a red lounging chair. A decorated rug upon the floor held more odds and ends of the captain's, leading up to the bottom of a book case the extended along the length of the cabin. And then, there was a large mattress covered with the very same crumpled red velvet that so embodied the captain.

His words set in. "Keep an eye on me?" She queried as she turned to face the hooked man. "Am I to be your prisoner?"

"No, my darling, unless you wish it to be so…" He began.

"It's Wendy Darling." She corrected.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You see, Miss Darling," He continued, "being that I am a pirate- I am not in the business of trusting another." Her eyes followed him as he paced around her. "And I do not yet believe your tale of woe concerning a common acquaintance of ours." Her brows furrowed. "Don't look at me like that cherub," He cajoled as he pinched her cheek and she resisted the urge to swat his hand away. "How am I to know that you aren't in cahoots with said party, leading me into a very bothersome trap?" He finished his sentence with a pitched voice, pinning her to the wall with his good hand still cupping her face a little too tightly.

Wendy dared not swallow, though her throat felt dry. She could give no sign of deceitful nature lest she would meet her end right here in the cigar-scented cavern. She merely held his gaze in silence. The minutes were uncountable. "How might I prove it?" Her words broke the stillness before he could hear the thumping of her heart.

She kept her gaze on him as his eyes wandered down over her and back to her face, like a ball bouncing on the street. "How indeed." He leered as he released his grip. She made no move to touch her aching jaw. "That, my dear Wendy, I shall leave up to you."

He left her against the wall as he strode to the rug in the center of the room. "I assume that you're hungry; I'll have Smee fetch you something to eat. Lunch and Dinner will be brought to these quarters as well. If you ever set foot outside of this room," He raised an eyebrow at the girl whilst he smiled, "well, you don't need me to tell you that you'll wish you hadn't." She continued her unyielding gaze. He would admire that, if he didn't believe it to be out of innocent ignorance. "For now, this is where I leave you. You may entertain yourself with whatever books you so choose, but do not touch the maps." He warned as he turned his back towards her, heading for the door.

A hand clutching his coat kept him from moving any further. He cocked an eyebrow as he turned slowly to look at the girl who now stood a mere head or so below him. Time was a frightening thing. "I wish to be your partner." Her voice was resolute.

"Beg your pardon?" He fought against the lurch in his voice that would make him sound like a simple school boy.

Her right hand came abruptly forward as an answer. "We can defeat him side by side. Let's shake on it." She nodded confidently.

This girl walked into all kinds of misappropriations of words. He retorted her offer with laughter. She was growing to know that, although his mockery annoyed her to no end, the response was a positive one.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You seemed to have missed the point where I do not _trust_ you, Wendy Darling." His head bowed as he looked up into her eyes. "That bit of the bargain comes with time."

Her stomach clenched as she thought back to the conversation she had with her mother. _How long ago was that now?_ Did all adults have some secret set of rules?

He could see the indignation on her face. This girl was really meaning to do something… He couldn't tell just yet what it was. He let her go with a pat on the shoulder. "Lucky that in this location it's supply is never ending."


	4. Chapter 4

Who does she think she is?" Hook spoke to himself as he closed the cabin door behind him. "Pan's first female interest comes aboard my ship as if it were her own and asks to co-captain within a manner of minutes after pointing a knife at my throat!" He took a breath. "What made her believe she was worthy of my acceptance anyway? She sure as hell doesn't know what it takes to govern a crew..." He growled as he pulled the broad hat deeper over his eyes. Was that the mark of a proper lady these days, to be so commandeering? No, he took mental note, this one had always been special. "Why now, after all these years?"

* * *

 

Wendy sat on the sill, enjoying the feel of the sun washing over her through the paned glass. After all, there weren't many cloudless days where she came from. The sky was now an interesting gradation of blue, though within all of its hues she could not place one perfectly matched to the captain's eyes.

A rap came at the door, waking her out of a trance. "Beg your pardon, miss." The familiar voice of the rotund man came into the room, along with a tray of assorted fruits. "Best the island has to offer." He said proudly as he waddled over to her, placing the tray gently on the table. She was about to thank him when his gasp interrupted. "Dear me! Your jawline…" He knelt to study her a bit. Then he spoke with caution, "Did… our cap'n?"

She gingerly fingered the spot he was talking about. "Oh! It's nothing, really Mister Smee, thank you."

He nodded with a still-worried look on his face.

"Why," She tried to hide her curiosity, "has he done something like this before?"

"The cap'n may be a little rough around the edges with the crew." Smee looked back towards the tray of fruit. "But he only does what he deems to be necessary!" He failed to soothe her fears. "I'm sorry, miss, but he's not practiced in dealing with proper young ladies such as yourself; with the location being such as it is. Perhaps you could teach him a thing or two, hm?" He added kindly.

"Thank you, Smee." She smiled back at him, "I can see why the captain has placed his trust in you." The capped man blushed. "That's it!" She exclaimed. "Perhaps you can teach me how to gain his trust."

Smee took a seat by her at the captain's desk. "Now, now, I don't see why he wouldn't feel free to do so with an upstanding girl such as yourself."

"He thinks I'm planning things with Peter." She stared out the window.

The old man sighed. "Sometimes I do wish he would find a distraction from that boy." He grasped Wendy's hand lightly. "Which is why I'm glad you're here, my girl."

Hook wandered in to his quarters to see the elderly bosun sharing a moment with his uninvited guest. Something about it left him ruffled inside.

His smooth voice rang out against the walls. "You'll gain no respect of mine by using techniques of persuasion on my men."

Smee stood up and placed two fists on his wide hips. "Oh, come now, cap'n, do you really think our lady would be wicked enough to attempt that? Just look at her little face, go on; search it for any dishonesty!"

He glanced at the girl to see her eyes on his. For some reason he couldn't examine them further. "So, she's gotten to you, has she?" He rumbled.

The elderly man continued his tirade, "And you should be more careful when handling a young lady." He caught the captain's gaze, "Oh, yes, I see it all. That poor girl has a slight bruise on her chin. Save your savagery for any rapscallions we're up against."

"Smee!" Hook spoke in surprise, "After all these years of service, you're on her side already?"

"No sir." His mate said as he made his way towards the exit. "You'll soon see that I'm behind you both." With that he was gone.

  
Hook stared back at the closed door with a thousand thoughts. When he heard the girl pop a piece of fruit into her mouth, he turned back to her. " _You!_ " He snarled as he strode towards her. "You vile woman, you'll turn everyone on this ship against me!"

"Please, captain, you've got it all wrong…"

"Working your way down from my first mate, and all for what? _A little boy?_ " An angry gleam came to his eye, "You know you're not the only girl he's had on this godforsaken island."

"What?" Wendy blinked.

"Oh, so that tidbit of information was new?" His lips curled, "Why, yes, I'd say there have been several 'Wendy's prancing about. Sadly, none of them quite as lucky as you."

She stood facing him, feeling a chill set into her being, "What are you talking about?"

"Every few years he'd bring another young so-and-so in among the boys. He'd always try to recreate the ' _mother_ ' that you were to them." He could feel her rapt attention on him. "But, none of them made it home alive."

" _How could you!_ " Tears fell hot from her eyes as she raised her hand to swing.

He caught it easily with his good hand. "You think that I am the one to blame?" He searched the London fog that was her eyes, "No. No." He cooed. "You know very well that boy, that thing, cares little more for his flock than he does for a fly... From the way that you clung to me earlier, did you not have a brush with the mermaids?"

He could see that she was fighting back the rivers that begged to leave her eyes. Her good form brought an unfamiliar shame to his heart. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered back and she was swaying like a leaf. James knew what was sure to come next, as he caught her limp form quickly before she hit the deck. "Smee!" He hollered the phrase that was most familiar to his tongue. The old man couldn't have gone far.

He looked back at her unconscious body. When was the last time he had felt the sensation of another's weight in his arms? Not wanting to lay her on the drafty floor, he heaved the girl into his arms with her head lulling over his shoulder. Smee's words came back to him, he would have to be more delicate. He was careful to avoid any contact between the hook and her flesh. Where should he lay the girl? He surveyed the room for an answer before groaning at the most obvious option. The little minx was even going to snatch his bed out from under him.

He laid her down softly as he wondered if blasted Smee had heard his call and chosen to ignore it. After a breath, he brushed her tresses from her face to observe whether the girl was still pale. There was a bit of a rosy hue returning to her lips; a good sign. The captain never knew when to draw a line, after all, he never had to in this world. For the first time in a long time he found himself asking whether he had gone too far. He had certainly shown no consideration for the lives lost simply because he felt the blood was not on his hands. He was no bleeding heart to be stuck. Perhaps if this girl was on Pan's side this revelation would work in his best interest, he thought guiltily. It would be in her best interest.

As he looked upon her closed eyelids he tried to recall from a life past what one would do in this situation. Did he have smelling salts? No... he had something much better. He reached over to grab the cask of whiskey from his desk, wafting it under the girl's nose. She awoke with a sputter. "Not used to that brand, are we?" He joked.

Wendy looked at the chalice and back up at the curled hair that cascaded over her. She didn't know whether she would prefer it to be a dream after his tale resurfaced in her brain. He could see the fright on her face. After placing the cask back on his desk he tentatively reached out to place a hand on those that were crossed over her midsection. "Wendy," His voice was stale, "my words are true. For that and only that I am sorry." He bit at the last word as if it were gristle. How could anyone not be when two such eyes were looking up at him for assurance. "God knows why or how you came to be here again, but you are aboard my ship and as I said, under my watchful eye." He leaned towards her, "I will not permit you to leave this land by any other manner than my choosing."

"You don't mean the plank?" Her whisper was laced with trepidation forced bravado.

"No, my dear." His grip tightened on her slim fingers. "I believe we've grown past that stage. And that's something that I'm not apt to say in Neverland."

Though his warm hands were a comfort his words were not.


	5. Chapter 5

Those six years- why hadn't he come for her? Why had he chosen other young girls to bring to this island? Was it some sort of sacrificial ground to keep youth going? Was she meant to be a victim as well? She had even given him her thimble… Wendy wondered in the dying light of the cabin. She had found some lose parchment and was writing down her thoughts with the captain's feather quill. As not to disturb the ever-so-important maps on his desk, she laid her belly on the Persian rug to lose herself in her writing. Even in Neverland, it was the same as it had always been. Alone in a room, with only pen and paper as her allies and window to another world. The black cursive was blending together like the mass of curls on Hook's head, growing harder to read. It was dusk, she would have to light the lanterns soon.

As she stood up, she adjusted her nightgown so that it was not scrunched around her thighs as it had been on the floor. She turned in search of a light for the candles when her eyes were met by a subdued blue, like the water just off the edge of a white sand shore. "Hook!" She gasped as she saw him drinking in his longue chair. There was nothing else on the table beside him for entertainment. Wendy scolded herself for getting lost in her words, "How long were you there?" She squeaked as she rushed to pick up the divided parchment on the floor.

The captain took another sip from his goblet, watching her bend for each scrap, the hem rising with each downward movement. Oh, this could be a game in itself: how far would the fabric reach? He ignored her question. "I do have chairs, you know." His voice was low and teasingly sweet. Wendy guessed it was the drink.

"I do recall." She righted herself with her papers crossed over her heart. How much of her legs had been showing? The pervert had simply watched…

"Has anyone ever told you that your tongue slips between your lips every so often as you write?" He carried on with a smirk.

Her face briefly formed a pout. "Yes, well, I didn't know I had an audience."

"Tis a pity that the most grandiose men always do fade into the background." The pirate frowned back at her. "Besides, I did not say that it was a particularly bad habit." He noticed her swallow. Hook tilted his head, "Those scribbles must be important- would you care to share?"

"I must decline." She wrinkled the pile in her grasp.

"Come now, pet?" He cooed as he sauntered towards her, "I'm sure they're good. After all, you're the only storyteller for miles."

She grew cold at the compliment. Every word out of his mouth had such duality. His hook reached forward and gently rested atop the parchment.

A panic filled her. "Trust me." She sputtered whilst holding the paper tighter.

"How?" His tone was at the very left side of the piano.

Her eyes were dancing with his. "I will tell you a story, but it won't be the one I have written here. Not until I trust you."

"So you admit you're wary of me?" The captain raised an eyebrow.

She took a moment to catch her breath, "Intimidated, seems like the right word."

At least she was being honest with herself. "Well then," He took her arm, gently she noticed, and sat her on the edge of his bed before sitting cross-legged on the rug. His hand played in the heat she had left in the carpet fibers, "my careful wordsmith, I would like to hear a story."

Looking down at a powerful man eager at her feet was something that Wendy had never experienced; it sent her heart fluttering. She blushed for a moment as she tried to imagine it was one of her younger brothers before bedtime. The height and breadth of him was convincing her otherwise as his head was level to her midsection.

The captain noticed her discomfort and mulled over placing a warm hand on her thigh. No, that would probably send the innocent girl over the edge. And so, Captain James Hook laid on his back on closed his eyes. She marveled at how with his mane splayed around him he resembled a lion. Frightful when facing you head on, yet somehow reminiscent of something approachable, even loveable, lying down. He opened one eye to peek at her, "Go on," he encouraged, "make me trust you."

It was strange, but she couldn't help but feel warmth in her heart. She smiled as her voice enticed, "Once upon a time…"

The mustached man started on his back, and as the tale progressed he moved up to his elbows. He admired the girl's ability to spin a yarn. She had gotten into the stories too, putting on voices and moving her hands with the characters' actions. As she entered the scene describing a sword fight, she leapt to her feet and danced around as if she knew what she was doing. Her ignorant enthusiasm caused him to laugh. He was glad when she chose to ignore it and continue the story. Hook was entranced by her vitality. He did not feel a familiar sting at her youth as he did with Pan, but instead felt as if he were part of it. By some strange notion, it was as if he were under her care, that she was the matron. He slipped easily into that delusion as he had longed for that feeling of vigor and incorruptibility, of childhood bliss. The very things he knew in his dark heart that he had hunted Pan for. As her account of the giant squid wore on, she even grew so bold as to tickle his midsection pretending her fingers were tentacles.

"Wendy…" He laughed as they rolled on the floor, "Wendy!" He roared.

His shout had awoken her from her reverie. They both stared at each other with faces flushed and chests heaving on the floor. Her face grew a deep crimson as the realization of her position was blossoming within her. The man regretfully recognized that he'd broken the spell. An ache came to his core, more nights like that and I fear I'll do more than trust you.

"Why are your stories about pirates?" James questioned earnestly.

She sat up properly and brushed herself off. Her fingers deftly pulled her hair behind her ears. It was a little late for propriety he noted amusedly.

"I have always found them to be… exciting." She retorted.

"Have you now?" He propped himself up on his hooked arm. "No foul play?"

She was quiet. "Honest."

"Am I exciting, Wendy Darling?" Hook looked up at her from his charcoal rims.

"Of course you are." She spoke as if it were the easiest answer in the world.

"Is that a good thing?" He prodded further.

"I'm not sure."

"Enlighten me."

"It leaves me on edge." She began to stand. "I mean I'm really unsure as to what will happen next when I'm around you."

He gave her a wide smile, "And isn't that the best part?"


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had been set for quite a while as Hook stood relaying some tales of his own. Only his were true accounts; though there would be no telling her that. She seemed enthralled in his story. Being the showman that he was, he fancied the feel of the girl's attention solely and completely on his person. And so he went on. He was halfway through his recollection when he began to notice her eyelids were closed and her face was slack against her arm.

"A pirate's life is dreadfully boring, isn't it?" He mocked.

But the girl didn't respond to his teasing. "Wendy?" He questioned as he leaned forward to hear her even breathing. "How can you fall asleep in front of a man with a weapon for a hand?" He chastised. "Foolish girl." Not only was this foolish girl asleep, but she was foolishly asleep on his mattress. He swore under his breath. He may have been a pirate, but Captain James Hook was first and foremost a gentlemen. This young lass was a lucky one indeed to share a cabin with him. He'd show her this time around that she had chosen the right ally in Neverland. That was right, she had chosen him…

He watched her roll in her sleep, admiring the steady rise and fall of her chest. He had been with many women at port but never stayed the night in their brothel. Nor would he ever let those filthy creatures into his bed; they were forbidden to board his ship. If his men wanted reprieve they needed to go elsewhere. Was that why this sensation felt so foreign to him? He laid down on the bed beside her, propping his head on his good hand. "Does that mean you trust me now?" His voice was soft. Was their sharing of stories enough to cement a bond strong enough to bring down a common foe? Did she truly wish to destroy the boy that brought her here so many years ago? Why else would she be sleeping so calmly in the room of the man whom had forced her to walk the plank? His thoughts were filled of that time six years ago.

She was a slim little thing, with big doe eyes and curls that clung tightly in her ponytail. Yet there was a fire in her, and a maturity much too big for her childish body. She was a clever girl that kept the boys in line. Nevertheless, she was nothing more to him than a means to an end. Living in Neverland, it was his first time in a long time to witness a girl child. Of course she must have been brought, much like the boys, from the mainland by a certain pied piper. He knew then that her very existence was special to Pan. Hook believed the boy to be growing up at last; that was until he heard the Lost Scoundrels calling her 'mother'. He rolled his eyes, of course that child was doing the opposite of growing up. Why in no time he'd be regressing to the state of a toddler! He was doing nothing more than playing house.

When she had said she'd wanted to be a pirate, it lit a sort of fire in his heart. He felt like he'd won. There was a pride in being able to elicit such ambition. His very own Red Handed Jill. And when he'd found out she was lying, well, he could say that he reacted in bad form. When he tied her up, he already knew that the boy would come to her rescue. But he wanted her to hurt. He wanted to scare her enough to get her out of this never-ending loop. He didn't want an annoying little girl as an opponent, he'd already had enough trouble from an infuriating little scamp! He could only imagine the headache that he'd have to deal with if he saw her face every day. The face of a girl who would never know what it meant to be a woman. He was glad when she left, and assumed her safe until he witnessed what the sea had claimed from Pan's other spring cleaning. Upon that sight, his hatred for the flying child renewed tenfold.

He feared her dead. Yet, somehow she was a woman. And against all odds she was here beside him. "Perhaps you are an angel." He whispered as he trailed his fingers lightly over her face, placing each curve to memory. She felt like a petal. He had forgotten the natural smoothness of women, without the caking of makeup. After all, it had been too long since they had docked. The crew must have been on the brink of mutiny. They might have been if the ship were captained by any other than James Hook. It was a good thing that they were headed to port at first light. A restitution of supplies and spirits was in order. The sight of her slightly parted lips was maddening. He nearly found himself pressed against them. He was sure he could make her want more than she ever knew. But he knew that if he continued, he would lose the traction he had gained that day. And this special girl would prove to be a better friend than foe. Now, he was determined to have her truly on his side. He desired her to want it with all of her being. And if she was a liar, he would break her.

She fussed in her sleep as she tossed. Her lower lip trembled as her breathing grew heavy. Hook set about hushing her and petting her hair like a tabby cat. Wendy responded by hugging her body against his. He could see a smile bloom on her face. "Are you truly asleep, Wendy Darling?" Hook asked flatly, but to no avail. Her warmth was ebbing onto his thigh. "Woman, you'll be the death me!" He crowed as he inched out of her grasp. Now out of bed, he surveyed her shivering without his heat. And so, he tucked the velvet blankets tightly around her, ensuring that her head was rested firmly on a pillow. He took one last look at the sleeping cherub before resorting to his lounge chair in search of sleep. "Good night, you lucky girl." Hook whispered as he blew out the candle.


	7. Chapter 7

As light danced through the window, Wendy could feel herself awakening from an extraordinary dream. Hook and Smee had been there, so like and yet unlike her ideals of them. Hadn't she tickled the captain? She smiled sleepily at the outlandish thought. He had been surprisingly warm in both spirit and body. Even her olfactory was imaginative, it was as if she could smell his virile scent surrounding her. She reprimanded herself, what sort of lady was she becoming? Keeping up with these thoughts would leave her to be an unfit bride.

Wait a minute, her body stilled, had tomorrow come so soon? By this evening it might even be arranged that she should be a bride, wed to Mrs. Moore's uptight and arrogant son. What was his name? She wouldn't even get it right when they were sitting at that blasted table discussing their future. Come on now, what was it? "Matthew!" She sat up with a start, adrenaline clinching her stomach and sending ice through her veins.

Her fear changed to confusion as she felt the velvet coverlet balled beneath her fists and saw the steady sway of the lamps chained to the ceiling. But it was the insistently cold steel against her throat that told her it hadn't been a dream at all. "I don't recall a Matthew being part of the Darling family." Hook's voice was hot at her ear as his appendage pressed at her neck. "Was it one of the Lost Boys that you had a tryst with? Is that how you've come to find yourself aboard my ship?" His voice was a mix of innocent curiosity and venom.

She did not move her body; only her eyes. As hers locked with his, he released some of the pressure. Hook searched her expression. "No, not a Lost Boy." He murmured with consideration, "A London boy..."

She spoke with her voice still thick with sleep, "I'm glad that I'm here." A rogue tear escaped her eye. "I would give anything not to be back there today."

As he adducted his arm she could feel the bumps rising on her skin. His brow furrowed as he seemed to contemplate her statement; her very being. There were only so many events that he could imagine taking place in one day.

She brought her hand up to warm the spot at her throat. "Still no trust in me, I see."

"Guilty." He admitted. "After all, I've fallen prey to your tricks before. And look where that got me? The aperture of a most unpleasant crocodile." He strode back towards his desk chair. "Of course I've slaughtered every last one of those fowl creatures, so I shan't be finding myself there again."

She looked down at her hands still bunching the fabric. "I apologize." She whispered not catching his glance as he looked up from his maps. "I suppose we both found ourselves in a bit of trouble when we placed ourselves in the hands of the other."

He shrugged as he returned to the tea at his table. He would not find himself feeling sorry for her lies. And if she was able to do so convincingly as a child, imagine what she was capable of as an adult.

"Aren't you going to ask me about him?" She stated for the air.

"Alas, I could not care less." He spoke into his morning tea. "To me that dreadful land is much less real than the one we float aside. Now it's nothing more than a bad dream." He silenced her with a glance, "One we seem to share."

She examined his face. It was adult, yet the span of his olive complexion lacked any sunspots or wrinkles. And there was not a white hair to be seen in the inkwell of his mane. His head was held up by a sturdy neck and broad musculature, though she wondered about the exact form of him beneath his naval cloak. He hadn't aged a day since her childhood, and here she had developed in more ways than she could count. It was like interacting with a ghost or a character from a novel. But the way he felt, each touch commanded realization of his existence. Back home her neighbors certainly would have referred to him as handsome. Perhaps that was because he was unlike anyone remotely in the vicinity of England.

However, Wendy noticed the darkness under the rims of his forget-me-not eyes. "Captain," She mused with concern, "you look… tired."

He nearly choked on his tea. "Yes, well, I found my bed to be occupied."

She realized her location with an awkward, "Oh!" She fidgeted out of the covers and began making the bed. "I beg your pardon, I am a rather sound sleeper when I'm exhausted." As she bent over the edge she insisted, "You didn't have to sleep elsewhere, after all, it is your bed."

"Is that an invitation, Wendy Darling?" the captain purred.

Her back grew straight as she simply stared at him, unable to speak. This certainly wasn't 'jolly old England' as he had so eloquently put it. Yet, somehow, the Hook that she was beginning to know was more of a gentleman than any she had met on the streets of London.

"Thank you." She recalled her manners. "But tonight I shall take the chaise while you regain the bed that is rightfully yours." He slipped his tea as he looked out on the ebbing water. She followed his gaze, "Captain- we're moving, aren't we?" She startled.

"That is what boats do, dear heart." He smiled as she huffed at his statement of the obvious. "I gave my orders at first light, before you awoke."

"But I thought you lived in Neverland." Her voice diminished along with her view of the island outside of the large windows.

"I do." He assured. "I've lived there since I was little older than yourself."

Her eyes shown as she looked upon him, "Then, how…"

"How what?" He cocked an eyebrow.

She recalled how sensitive he was about time. "How did you become the fine man that you are today?" He seemed pleased with her statement.

Hook moved his desk chair over to the table by the window and gestured for her to join him. She hadn't noticed a steaming cup of tea awaiting her as well. He took the chair out for Wendy as she sat down. She suddenly felt conscious of herself, knowing that no man had done that for her in London. Why, she'd never even given them the chance what with her avoidance of courtship.

"I became a man by necessity." He sat down a little after she had. "There are not enough supplies on that island, as you might have noticed scrounging for berries." He noticed her wince at bitter memories. "Nor are there enough ships to pillage from in the vicinity of its harbor. So, if we haven't enough supplies or we need to trade what we have plundered, I go to port on a nearby land. I would say it's about once every three months or so." He glimpsed at her curious face, "Each day that we spend outside of Neverland is another day that we grow older."

He could see the gears turning in her curl covered head. "How many years does that add up to?" Wendy couldn't hide her interest.

"Truthfully, I have not kept track." He appeared interested in the design on his porcelain cup. "Any changes on my person are extremely gradual." His blue eyes volleyed up to her as if for affirmation.

"You haven't aged a day since I saw you." She spoke truthfully as she found herself appreciating the opportunity to take him in.

"24 days to be exact. Almost a month in your life."

"By that math… About every 72 years…"

"Happy birthday to me." Hook twisted the corner of his moustache. "Clever girl." Then he looked out to sea, "But there were times when I spent much longer ashore than a mere day."

She could see how a man unaware of his age yet continuing to do so slowly compared to an everlasting teenager could gain some sort of neuroses. Peter must have had something about him that guaranteed his age even if he flew outside of the island. She had heard that he was the very source of Neverland itself…

Somehow she was determined to make the captain see another side to his life. "Why, you must have missed out on a party or two. When we get to port we should have a celebration!"

Hook physically recoiled at her words. "You must be out of your mind. Why should I celebrate that which taunts me?"

"Don't you have fond memories of birthdays from when you were a child?" Wendy prodded as she leaned forward to grasp his hand in hopes of friendship, "Didn't your father or your mother…"

His hand quickly retracted from her warmth. "To the likes of me there are no such things." She couldn't help but notice the way his digits trembled unlike his words. She took a moment to take in the information and consider her next move. "Don't you go offering to play house with me, Wendy Darling." His words were fierce with insight. "I'm not some boy in need of mollycoddling and I'll have none of your undue pity."

She smiled at him, "No, Sir, I would never intend to be your mother."


	8. Chapter 8

As Wendy watched the sun set on the open ocean, she could see little lights like stars shining against the dark water's surface. After focusing, she recognized that it was lamplight. "A town!" She cried out as someone above her quarters echoed "Land, ho!" to the rumbling cheers of men. Just how many were a part of Hook's crew? Were they recruited from this city?

The creek of the door interrupted her thoughts. "We shall soon dock on the mainland, but I'm afraid you must stay here, my Wendy." The captain spoke with sugary lament.

She opened her mouth to protest.

"Now, now." He tutted as he sat beside her on the window seat. "It is for the better after all, tis a rough town of port and there are far too many things that would sweep you up in a second."

Her brows furrowed, "Why don't you take me with you? I'm sure a gentleman like you could protect a lady such as myself."

His thumb and forefinger stroked his facial hair in contemplation. "A lady and a mother since the age of twelve." She looked up at him with her back straightened, feeling her face get warmer. "I am capable of such things." His voice was smooth, "After all, you are in need of more garments than that slip of a nightgown a man could shred in an instant." Had he thought about that? "But how will we get you out there without spoiling my secret?"

Her lips became a thin line as she considered the options. "Those ladies of the evening, I've seen them from my window late at night walking the streets of London. I'm sure this city has them as well; I could smear a bit of rouge on my face…"

His thumb was enough to cover her lips. She noted the rough feel of it and marveled at its size. His other fingers were gentle under her chin as he tilted her head side to side in examination. "I see no need for makeup on this face." He drawled. "Besides, a costume such as that would require a corset and other bothersome trifles that I so obviously lack on this ship."

She moved her lips against his finger. "We have men's clothing, I could pretend to be a boy on the street."

His blue eyes were still on hers for a moment. "What a shame," He sighed, "but it will have to do to get you properly fitted." He took his hand away and she smiled. "How easily excited you are." He grinned. "If I had known I would have given you my shirt ages ago."

"I'm to wear your clothing?" She felt anxious.

"Well, Smee isn't quite your size." He joked, "Lord knows what the crew has been rolling in."

Her eyes fell to the Persian rug. "I see."

"Have I stomped on your ambition?"

"No, I'll take what you have to offer."

"Glad to hear it." Hook smirked as he opened a chest and laid an outfit on the bed, complete with a thick leather belt. He caught her eyeing it. "I'm sure you know why you need that. Go on, there's a folding screen over there."

"You aren't going to leave the room?"

"It is my room, after all." He sat at his desk, "And it ought to be my duty to protect a young lady such as yourself from prying eyes."

She blinked at him.

"Foolish girl," He chided as he busied himself with parchment. "I have far more important things to look at."

Wendy could hear her heart in her ears as she took off the last vestige of her sane life. It was such a thin veil. The captain could see nothing behind the screen aside from her feet, but he felt rewarded to watch the white fabric drop. He tried to look at his ledger again to account for spending when he heard the rustle of his pants being pulled up on someone else's legs. Was she wearing anything beneath his attire or was her body freely exploring that which had covered him? He shook his head to not be persuaded further by his thoughts. No, he could not fall into her trap again.

As he looked up from his paper, he could see how much of a woman she was; even in men's clothing. The belt tied at her slim waist seemed to accentuate her curves and her breasts caught the loose shirt fabric just at the peak of her. He could feel himself salivating and swallowed.

"Is this how it's supposed to look?" She spun for him.

He placed his ringed fingers across the bridge of his nose. "My dear, you are every bit the way you are supposed to look. Yet you look nothing like a boy. Does this make sense to you?"

Her nose wrinkled in confusion.

"Smee!" Hook hollered as a last ditch effort. Helping this ignorant girl any further would dig his grave.

"Yes cap'n?" The portly man popped his head in with a smile. When he caught sight of the girl he gasped and promptly looked to Hook for explanation.

"I'm innocent, I swear it! She insisted she had nothing to wear and wanted to head to town without being too… obvious."

The old sailor approached Wendy and patted her hand. "You poor thing. Why, I have just the idea! We'll wrap you in a table cloth and make it look like a shawl. It'll be big enough to cover what you already have."

"Great idea, Smee!" She beamed and the captain felt an uncomfortable sting at his heart.

"Most of the crew already been shovin' off to shore. No one should catch us on deck. Care to join me, my lady?" He bowed and she took his arm without a care. They left the quarters without so much as a backwards glance, like two school girls.

Hook gave a sigh as he felt the tension leaving his body. How could one person inspire such simultaneous stress and relief? It was maddening. His black leather boots carried him over to the screen which he proceeded to fold and return to its rightful place. But then, there was one object that had never been on the floor of the Jolly Roger. He stared at the heap at his feet. Hook bent to pick up her nightgown, feeling the petal softness of it, as if it had acquired the trait from being on her skin. What else had it imbibed? As if driven by the need to know, he brought the fabric to his face. For a moment he wished that he too had been pressed against her naked flesh. Being an avid tracker of Pan, he had grown to trust his senses. He could smell her childhood bedroom, the London air and wet dew of her lawn, hours of her perspiration, her essence; all intermingled with his linen. Guiltily, he felt the tightness in his stomach and knew that tonight would likely be spent with one of those girls Wendy had seen out of her window.


	9. Chapter 9

Hook had left Smee in charge of seeing to Wendy's needs. Both the girl and elderly gentleman understood with no qualms about it. Besides, she felt less nervous under the care of the one who had been friendly to her ever since her first visit to Neverland.

They strode on a cobblestone street, surrounded by row housing and taverns. "What is this place?" Wendy leaned over to her companion, looking like an older woman hidden beneath a shawl. To any onlookers she would appear to be Smee's consort attached at his arm.

"Erstwhile is what we like to call it." He chuckled, "Y'know Miss, how you never age in Neverland? Well this is the time in between so to speak."

She nodded in understanding as she peered out from under the dark fabric to view the clusters of shops. "Many of these are for pawning. Or drinking. Or fighting!" She remarked, "It certainly seems like the place for pirates."

"Yes'm." He agreed, "Suits our every need nicely. Plenty of things here that no kid could dream up! In fact, I reckon that if Pan imagined Neverland, why our very own Cap'n Hook thought this place up."

"Indeed." Wendy remarked as they strode past the brothel just opening for business. "Are you sure that they'll have a tailor?" She tried to keep her eyes from the bulging corsets.

Smee stopped by a fountain in the middle of the town square. "Of course, child!" He beamed. "Haven't ye seen the cap'n's fancy garbs? All that gold and velvet and rich leather?"

She cleared her throat at the thought. "Of course I have, Mister Smee. But I would rather not have something so ostentatious for myself."

"Everyone's got their own tastes." He placed his hand atop of hers.

"Mister Smee," She began meekly, "maybe you can help me understand our captain's tastes. I've been wanting to get him something for his birthday."

"B-birthday?!" He squeaked.

"Yes. I was planning on throwing him a celebration or something that he would enjoy…"

"Oh, how delightful! A birthday! Why, I can't remember the last time any of the crew has blown out a candle." He clapped his hands. "You are right missy, we are in the right land to do so. Er, but what would our cap'n think?" He scratched his bald head.

"I know he's sensitive about time, but I'm hoping to change his mind."

Smee hummed. "C'mon, Wendy, I think our tailor might have just the trick!"

* * *

 

Hook was the last to step off the Jolly Roger, giving a nod to the two guards standing watch over the gangplank. He had taken a swig of whiskey before leaving, and he was planning on a several more before the night was over. To him it was a pleasure isle, complete without the burden of a flying pest of a boy. Yes, this island had everything that a man could desire. The expense that it came with was age. He felt another price weighing on him tonight, tugging somewhere at the corner of his soul. He wouldn't let it get to him, after all, he only came here every seventy two years or so.

* * *

 

A bell chimed as the girl and her cohort entered the shop.

"I'm sorry lovelies," A thin tailor with brown hair tied at his neck spoke whilst pinning a garment, "It's getting to be dark outside and we will be closing rather…" That was when he spied Smee's characteristic red cap. "Ah, Mister Smee!" He smiled, "Where is my best customer and how might I be of service to him today?"

"Pardon Miss'r Jacques, but our little lady over here is in need of some dresses." He gestured to the cloaked companion beside him.

Jacques pouted in confusion. "Show me what I have to work with." As instructed, Wendy dropped her table cloth of a shawl. The tailor took a breath at the vision before him. "My, what a delicate frame you have!" He swooped as she blushed. "It looks as if you're in need of shoes as well. How might you be related to our dear captain?" The tailor's lips curled.

"He's…"

"She's the cap'n's favorite." Smee said proudly.

"Oh, I don't think…" Wendy guffawed.

"Poppet, you don't have to." Jacques grinned. "If it's on the Captain's tab, that is." He looked to Smee who placed a hefty satchel onto the table. Wendy noticed the chime it made upon impact, as did the tailor.

When Jacques rushed into the back room, she exchanged a glance with Smee who appeared oblivious and overjoyed. The young man returned with an arm full of everything that she would require. "Now, I don't have time to make new ones tonight, but these are my best samples. Why, she looks like she would be the same size as my mannequin! Go ahead, try them on." He shone as he placed the silken heap into the girl's arms.

* * *

 

James Hook's feet had lead him to the brothel before he had even considered where he was going. That seemed to be his destination nonetheless. He was about to step in to the red light when he noticed a perky pair held up by a blue ribbon corset. There was a lady standing under the lamplight. Her dress was a darker shade of grey that reminded him of someone's eyes. Yes, she would do nicely. The only worrisome thing was that her head was hidden beneath a large hat. It was the same style and size as his fellow buccaneers. She must have taken it from a previous customer. All the better not to see her face anyhow.

* * *

 

Jacques and Smee sat marveling at each new outfit that the girl tried on. There were several for swimming, sleeping, day-to-day and romantic evenings.

"Miss'r Jacques," Smee interrupted, "If you don't mind, we were looking for something special tonight. It being the cap'n's birthday and all."

"It is?" The tailor looked amused, then turned to Wendy. "Go ahead and try on the final gown, lovely. And here, take this with you."

* * *

 

Wendy waited under the lamplight in the town square, as instructed by her new friend Jacques and Mister Smee. She felt silly wearing the large hat that cast a shadow over her features. Would the captain approve of her new dress? Was this really in celebration of his birthday? After all, it felt like she was the one receiving gifts.

Suddenly, his presence was upon her. "Good evening, young lady." His voice was satin.

"Good evening, Captain." Her heart sped up at his appearance.

"What are you doing out here in the moonlight?"

"Waiting for you of course." She tried not to sound too excited.

"I'm here." His voice was quiet as he leaned under the brim of her hat.

Before Wendy could respond, his lips were flush against hers. "Mm!" She interjected, her brain going fuzzy from the unexpected sensation. It was soft at first, then insistently harder. His right hand grasped at her shoulder as his tongue sought entry. She was lost as she opened her mouth to him, feeling his organ rolling around hers, tasting the cigars and spirits that were there not long ago. She felt like he was becoming a part of her as his body pressed against hers and his hand searched lower on her back. By now, his passion had parted her hat from her head.

Hook opened his eyes to see the honey curls which he had come to know. How strange, he only thought that he imagined this girl tasting much sweeter than any other. His lips pressed against her softness once more in final parting. Realization came as slowly as his breath, "Wendy…"


	10. Chapter 10

She could feel his heat in her mouth. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced; wet and fluid, yet hard. She was entranced by the feeling until his rough voice awoke her, "Wendy…"

As her senses came into focus, she began to feel shame and anger at him for forcefully taking something she could never regain. But his eyes were not smug like those of a pirate thief, somehow they were remorseful and seeking understanding. His forget-me-nots were looking up to her London skies, as if asking for rain. And she would let it pour. " _How dare you._ " Her eyes narrowed and a lump rose in her throat as she turned on her heal towards what she believed to be the direction of the Jolly Roger.

"Wendy!" He exclaimed. Her feet determinedly carried her farther. "Wendy, I beseech you, it was an honest mistake…"

Her pulse was racing as she stopped to face him. "How on _Earth_ could one person erroneously, and quite convincingly I might add, take the mouth of another?!"

He took in a breath. He knew any answer that he might offer would further seal his fate. But fate desired to be kept on course. "Ello Cappy." A plump girl in a far-too-tight corset sauntered up to him under the lamplight. The amount of rogue she wore on her face inspired the image of a pig. "Looks like you're havin' a bit o' struggle with that one. Why not join ol' Martha at the tavern when you get tired, hm? You know the one." She winked over her shoulder upon her exit.

Hook slowly rotated towards his innocent companion. Her look inspired fear akin to the very crocodile he had sworn he killed. She had turned and was walking resolutely away. Hook knew that the poor girl was lost in her frenzy; any other time he would let her walk it off, but she was headed straight for Blind Man's Bluff. The landmark was known as such for the steep cliff that appeared without warning.

"Wendy." He tried again to no avail. She was getting unbearably close. "Wendy Moira Angela Darling!" He commanded. As she turned to blink at him, his breath hitched.

"You know my Christian name?"

He could not name the emotion in her voice. The captain stalled.

"How is it that you are able to recall it?" Her eyes swept over his person, as if trying to analyze everything he was.

"You were an ally of… Pan." His voice was a mixture of anger and pain. "I gathered everything I could about you and reviewed the material thoroughly."

She winced as she looked down. What would Peter think of her now? After discovery of his activities in her absence, she doubted he even cared. Had he ever cared? Did she want him to?

"He had a soft spot for you." The captain continued. "You know he did. I'd even hoped that you would inspire the boy to finally grow up; a terrifying yet satisfying notion that left me conflicted. After all these years, I, Captain James Hook, wanted to be responsible for his end. But there you were. Here you are. I cannot argue with everything you stand to be."

She was silent.

"You said you found pirates exciting," His voice was repentant, "Wendy, is it wrong that I found you to be the same?"

Her stomach was stirring. "I need a moment to think." She spun away from his prying eyes.

Suddenly, his good hand was snaking around her torso. "Unhand me!" She squealed. "If you wish to force me, I… I'll scream!"

"I'm afraid I cannot." He apologized. "For the world is much more interesting with you in it."

She followed his gaze down the precipice, watching a rock topple into the waves far below. Her body was rigid with fright as he swiftly withdrew her to safety. Hook was about to remove his arm until he recognized she was clinging like a child. He remained perfectly still, waiting for her to regain her composure. "I know that somewhere in that pretty little skull of yours you'll acknowledge that if I'd wanted to have my way with you, it would have happened upon first sight."

Her breathing was becoming normal, but she would not let go of his arm nor face the man at her back. The feeling of his lips playing with hers pressed at the corners of her mind. Tears fell down her hot cheeks. She would not let him see. "I'd like to go to the ship now." Her voice attempted strength.

The captain felt a tug somewhere at his core. "I shall see you there."

* * *

 

The pair walked along the river by the light of the full moon. Both were lost in thought and it was quiet sans for the sounds of nature. Hook had chosen the route in order to avoid any further confrontation of rowdy women or crew. He knew that the men were probably having the time of their lives. Drinks and whores were in ample supply. He was giving this night up; seemingly without reward. Unless the taste of her sweetness was a part of the tally…

Wendy had never thought much about men before. Perhaps it was due to the constant care that she'd given her brothers. All boys around her age were like siblings to her. All of the grown-ups were, well, grown up. This enigma walking beside her represented neither of those categories and it confused and infuriated her. It made her feel things that no proper lady should. Still, he had kept her from falling earlier. At least she should be the one to keep her manners in this reprobate world. "Thank you." Her voice broke the stillness.

For a moment the captain was unsure to what act his companion was grateful for. Then it decided to chalk it up to wishful thinking. He might as well try to make the most of the night, "How will you ever repay me?"

"I beg your pardon!" He huffed. "You were the one to take something from me that should have only been shared on my wedding day."

"Did it belong to the London boy?" He smiled. He didn't know why he felt so vindicated.

"Not an ounce of me belonged to him."

"Now would be my turn to apologize." Hook bent low, "Wendy Darling, I am in truth sorry for my brash actions, how might this pirate make amends?"


	11. Chapter 11

In the past he was never more sinister than when he was at his most polite.

"Would you truthfully do anything to make it up to me?"

Oh- he had seen that sly look before. Perhaps it was in a mirror. "Would you happen to have something in mind, my sweet?"

She held her chin aloft as she looked into the forest. "I don't know what you're insinuating..."

He placed the safe end of his hook, carefully in a nonthreatening manner, against her chin to coax her gaze back towards him. As her eyes locked with his, it felt like fireflies in her stomach.

"What would you ask of me?" His full eyebrows moved with the tone of his question.

Her words, those lightning bugs, came flying out. "Tell me what you were like at my age."

His body shifted awkwardly away, "How unexpected... You must view me as ancient."

"I didn't intend to insult you." She cupped his hand in hers in an apologetic gesture. He marveled at the contrast in size. "I just wanted to know more about you."

He swallowed, trying to imagine how this line of conversation would benefit him in any way.

Wendy was a smart girl. She was wary of the captain whose hand she held; which was exactly why she chose that question. Since she didn't fully trust him, she would ask him something impossible. Something she knew he was sensitive about. Besides, she hardly believed that he could recall a time before Peter Pan. If he answered earnestly, well then, perhaps there was capacity for trust in the old sea captain after all.

As they continued their walk in silence, Wendy was wagering that her past judgment of Hook had been correct. That was until his voice interrupted the echo of frogs. Now it seemed that even the crickets were listening. "As a lad, I attended Eton." He took in a long, shuddering breath, "I look back on those years fondly. They were the best years of my life."

Her heart skipped at the tangible sorrow in his voice. Surely he wouldn't put on a humiliating act for the fun of it, not her proud captain. Wendy had heard of the school from her father. He had dreams of her brothers attending. In England the word was synonymous with privilege.

"My friends and I," He paused, "I can't recall their names, but I can see their childish faces vividly. We would waste the days away after class playing the wall game. I wonder if it's still around. Such a skill of hitting a ball against bricks was never useful, really." He was facing away from her now, looking at a break in the tree line out at the moonlight on the vast ocean. From this high up, the Jolly Roger looked like a toy in a tub.

A warm breeze tossed his dark curls and she found herself thinking, this is surely the most beautiful man to have ever existed. "I've seen it around." She spoke, suddenly short of breath.

A genuine smile lit his face as he turned half towards her for a second. "Really, now?" The moon was his silhouette, "I'm glad to hear it."

"They had the grandest library." His voice was wistful. Wendy could share his sentiment for stories. She had never heard him so lighthearted. "I was interested in the lake nearby, and started checking out books. Bodies of water have always been somewhat my passion. It was by fault that I discovered prose about the sea. Soon all of my favorite novels were of poetry. I swear, I'd checked out certain copies enough to have believed that they were my own; the way that they fit into my hands." He lifted his wrists to gaze upon his palms, somehow surprised at the metal that glared back at him. Always.

She wanted to reach out, but words evaded her. There was simply nothing she could say.

"After tragedy struck, I came to the accursed Neverland." His appendage was shaking. Perhaps I was looking for a way to live in that time of innocence before." He looked at her full in the face. "Mind you, Wendy Darling, I won't go spilling all of my secrets to your innocuous ears this evening. And it's wholeheartedly likely that I never shall."

She nodded mutely.

He turned from her. "I went back, just once." His voice was harder now. "I went back to tear my name from Eton's pages. No one in the world outside will ever utter James Hook again. I'm positive my mates were all dead at that time. There was no one left to indulge in my past. Thus, I had no past. It's amazing how small something can seem after all these years. And yet, how infinite that time will be, for me."

She wished she could see what secrets were in his eyes.

"Have I piqued your interest, my Wendy?" Hook asked as he observed her contemplative expression.

"…How much of that was true?" She spoke slowly.

"Every word. You'll find the Eton catalogues in my quarters." He thought about swearing upon 'pirate's honor' although that statement held no merit; especially to the girl before him.

"Then, thank you… James." She smiled at trying the word on her tongue.

It sent a shiver down his spine, although he did not show it.

"You say that no one in that world will recall your name, but I will." She assured.

"Ah, but you are in that world no longer."

She looked up at the darkened sky, searching for that second star to the right. Was she having second thoughts? Hook knew first hand, if motivation for remaining in Neverland was not strong enough how tempting it would be to persuade a fairy to send you packing. Although by the time you considered it, there may be nothing left to return to. The girl cast her eyes away from the sky. So she wanted to stay. But, for how long?

The two of them sat in silence for a while. A warm wind took the palm fronds, swaying them gently. He watched them dance in the light of the moon. The waves, although miles below, could be heard in a repetitive rhythm on the shore. Some crowing of his crew members and shanty music hummed in the background. He had little faith that any would return to the Jolly Roger this evening.

"…You say that it's my birthday?" Hook began while staring out at the water.

"I did say that." Her tone was curious.

"I can't recall the last one I've had. Do you know what I would like?"

She shook her head, admiring his idealist expression.

"I'm ashamed to say that I haven't swam in the ocean since that dreadful beast took my hand. I used to be quite fond of it. With the warm day that it was, I'm sure that the water would be lovely. Wendy," He looked at her for approval, "will you swim with me?"

"What?" She gasped at his genuine desire. "Captain, I haven't the attire."

"Is there a specific apparel?" He stroked his facial hair, "I beg your pardon, but I find myself rather out of touch these days."

"How indecent!" Wendy puffed. "Why, there's attire for every occasion."

 _Not quite every occasion._ He found himself musing, but dare not speak aloud.

"What a woman you have grown to be, indeed." He observed. "I'm sure that the tailor gave you a fitting underdress that should be light enough in the water."

"And you?" Wendy swallowed.

"I shall keep my undergarments on as well." He looked at her inquiringly, "It's not much to ask for a man who hasn't had a birthday in several centuries, is it?"

"I suppose not." She articulated.

"Come!" He reached for her with his good hand. She placed her fingers in his and they were swiftly heading down the hill, kicking up rocks in their wake. Laughter swelled within her and bubbled out of her mouth. How odd that she felt akin to what she had with Peter, a freedom and sense of abandon. And yet, she sensed a safety that she did not have before. This pirate was there for her protection and welfare, and he certainly made a better ally than an enemy. He would not abandon her for some self-satisfactory journey. He would not let any of his companions approach her with ill intent. It was, should she say, mutual?

They approached an empty shore, as Wendy counted the constellations visible in the vast sky. While she was looking up, the Captain's clothes came down. She blinked at his form. This was what you would call a grown up body; tall, toned and tan. A thin layer of hair lined his chest, his abs were bare sans for a trail into his breeches. She was grateful that he had some vestige of clothing left, she was not yet prepared to examine the complete version of the male physique. "Join me, Wendy." He smiled. She hesitated. "I'll cover my eyes, if you wish." He made a move to follow suit.

"No…" She stirred. "It's quite alright." She was free here. She was safe. She made a move towards her back when she recalled the new corset set had acquired. "Perhaps you could help me." She flushed.

"It would be my honor." He spoke as he approached her back. She felt his fingers deftly dealing with the fabric as her outer shell fell onto the sand. She could feel her heartbeat rising and hoped it wasn't as loud as it was in her ears. His fingers pulled at the strings with ease as the whale bone frame became distant from her skin. He had done this before. How many times? Her stomach turned and she didn't like the feeling. Soon everything was left on the beach except for her slip. She kept feeling that coal in the pit of her. It was keeping her from moving forward.

"You're beautiful in the moonlight." Hook breathed. For some reason it made her feel a little more at ease. "Would you help me as well?" He motioned to the holster that held the hook at his wrist.

"You… want me to remove it?" She was fascinated with the leather and buckles.

"Of course, for the trust you've shown me I could only afford the same." He responded, "Besides, I could do without the rust."

She pulled back on the buckles gently, noting the dampness of his skin underneath. How must it feel to wear such a thing daily? The apparatus came off smoothly. "Thank you." His voice was less ostentatious than usual.

She laid it down softly across his abandoned clothes.

"Come now Wendy," He called, "It's not a baby." He was making his way towards the water. "What are you waiting for?" He queried as his ankles were enveloped by a wave. He was staring at her, his back to the sea. The moon was high in the sky, lighting their way.

"I-I'm not sure." She said honestly.

"There's nothing to fear my Wendy, I'll keep you safe." He smiled as he came towards her and swooped her up into his arms. She did not beat against his chest as she would have with any other man. She merely stared at him in mute amazement, feeling his warmth permeating her thin fabric. She could feel the taught muscles of his arm holding her up. His hook and holster, keeping them clearly in sight on the shore. Separate from that apparatus, this was James. She couldn't really see the details of his wrist, although, truthfully, she wasn't paying much attention to that part of him. She was lost in his eyes. So lost that she squealed when her feet were submerged in water.

"It's like a bath." He laughed heartily.

"It is." She marveled as she eased into the shallow waves. Now she was standing on her own in the inky blackness.

His head disappeared beneath a wave as she let it wash over her. As he rose up, she could see his once voluminous hair was now flush against his skin. He used his good hand to brush it out of his face. James. She marveled again. Not Hook, but James.

A warm wave rushed them, bringing her body against his in the inky blackness. It felt as if they were pressed skin to skin through her thin, whetted fabric and she was highly aware of the warmth of his solid form. She caught herself staring.

"Afraid of the sea, little Wendy?" He queried as another wave lapped against their foundation. The indignant words were lost on her tongue as he interjected, "Have no fear, your captain will protect you."

She admired how the water seemed to cleanse him of all sarcasm. Suddenly, a crab scuttled across her feet and thoughts of all the terrible creatures of Neverland flooded her head as she lept with a shout and climbed him like a mast. Come to think of it, she would have never entered the enveloping darkness without Hook's assurance. When had she become as blind as to trust his judgement?

"Shouldn't ladies wait until marriage to engage in this sort of behavior?" He smirked at her vexed expression. "Not that I was ever one for tradition, Miss Darling…"

"Take me ashore this instant!" She huffed at the return of his cocky attitude.

"You're free to do as you please." He gestured towards the beach.

She followed the direction of his finger with her gaze, remaining attached with her legs around his hip.

"Are you afraid?" He questioned again in earnest. She looked up at him slowly, silently. "Don't be." He shook his head. "These are not the shores of Neverland, where your fear would be well founded. Why, a mermaid is as absurd here as it would be in England." He wiped a wet tendril out of her face. "No, there's nothing here but the occasional crab. Most fearsome creatures are out beyond the reef at this time of night." He nodded towards the open sea.

Still, she wouldn't relinquish her grasp. Even the mention of ordinary creatures had her frozen. "Alright." He sighed, "I guess we've swum enough. Hold your breath a moment dear." Wendy obeyed as another wave came over them. She breathed in as she noticed the rivulets coming off the captain's head. She instinctively pushed the hair out of his face as he had hers, locking it behind his ears. "Wendy," he smiled, "If we are to end this gift early, might I be as greedy as to ask for another?" She bit her lip as she debated how selfish she truly was. "All I ask is a thimble." His voice was not as confident or ostentatious as she had known it to be. "…Yours to give when you deem it appropriate." Her heart sped at his request but she gave no sign to approve it.

They were moving through the waves on his steady strides. Her weightlessness was disappearing as she felt her waterlogged clothes tugging on her out in the open. "You may walk on land now, if you wish." He whispered close to her ear.

She gingerly placed one foot on the ground, then the other. As she stood from him, she noticed the water clung to his underclothes as well, allowing for her curiosity to simultaneously be piqued and sated. The moonlight illuminated everything on the white sand. For a second she wonder what the captain could see of her as well. She blushed and went to busy herself with picking her gown and garments off the beach. Hook did the same. Once she had gathered everything, she absentmindedly remembered the contraption that had brought him his name. Didn't he need help getting his hook on? Wendy looked over to see the man deftly securing the straps around his arm, pulling and biting the leather with his teeth. This seemed to be a routine he was accustomed to. For some reason she couldn't help herself for feeling shamed; something had changed since their flight from the warm water.

It wasn't a far walk to the ship, Wendy had opted to carry her shoes rather than wear them on her sand-caked feet. Her hair was dripping down the back of her still-wet clothes. As the dock was within sight, Hook spoke, "I'll fetch you a bath so you can wash off the salt." He turned on his heel towards a local stream that lead to the ocean, the crew had left barrels beside it for storage on their return to sea. Her hand reached out to him. "Allow me." Her voice was shy. "It is your birthday, after all."

For a moment he looked lost as he stared down at the girl, then he shook his head. "No, you hurry up and get out of that wet clothing. The air is getting cool and you'll catch your death out here." She had only begun to notice the chill. "Besides, that barrel will weigh as much as you do by the time I fill it."

"Why can't your crew…"

He leaned down to meet her face with a smile, "I'm only cruel when I need to be."

* * *

 

There was no one aboard the ship, and he had suspected that the guards had gone off to have their fun at this hour of the night. There were no real dangers in these parts anyhow. Therefore he had sided on letting Wendy walk back to the Jolly Roger alone. That was before a thought started to grow in his head of the perfect pink of her nipples seen easily through her small clothes. Such a treasure wasn't meant for the eyes of any drunks wandering the pier. Was he worthy of such an innocent maiden?

"Wendy!" He called after her as he noticed the way the wet fabric clung to her behind. He suddenly felt like a dying man in need of water. He swallowed against his dry throat as she turned, her eyes catching the moonlight. "Wait there." The words came hard. She smiled and stayed obediently. If she were a dog, her tail would be wagging, he swore it.

He filled a small barrel from the nearby stream and was back in a wink to the girl on the sand. They walked in silence up the dunes and onto the boardwalk. "Stay behind me." The captain instructed, in case any loyal guards stood their post. He laughed aloud when there was not a soul. Loyalty. _Hah!_ He need to inspire some amongst his ranks. Whether it is better to be feared or loved, he mused with a sidelong glance to the girl at his side. Was she making him soft? To his surprise she was looking back at him. Both looked away and for a moment he felt outside of himself again, unsure of what to say.

By the time they got back to the room neither was soaking, but a pervasive dampness remained. The captain he continued to instruct, "Place some water into that pot and set it by the fire."

"Ever the captain." She noted playfully. "Am I a member of the crew now?"

"Why, Red Handed Jill, have you accepted me as your captain to whom you will dutifully serve?" He raised an eyebrow.

She rather disliked the feeling of being under someone's thumb, "I'm putting on the bath water, if that's what you mean. That's as far as I go." She was determined not to feel like her future belonged to a man… like she was back in London. "Maybe someday you'll serve under me." She turned back mischievously.

"I await the day with bated breath." His mustache curled with his grin.


	12. Chapter 12

A young James, not past the age of twelve, lay on his belly reading a book as his inky locks brushed the tips of his shoulders. There in those pages he could escape the dingy gray paint peeling from the damp walls. There he could avoid the muffled coughs of his mother outside what could hardly be called a door. He could avoid the poignant absence of a dapper figure to bring his family out of the wretched poverty in which they dwelled. The sound of the shutters banging against the side of his white-washed house attracted his attention, but could not pull him completely out of the dream that was kept in warn paper. Yet, the crying of his baby sister Anabelle was enough. He let go of the book as if it were the hand of a friend, and walked the few steps to his sister's crib.

"Shh," He soothed as he bundled her gently in swaddling clothes. "Mother needs her rest." He rocked the child gently against his slim frame. She stilled for a moment until she began sucking the inside of her cheek. "I see, you're hungry," He sighed. "I'm hungry too."

James wrapped the babe around his back, ready to head to the market in the harbor town.

Their very house sat on the old wooden planks of the docks, purposefully placed there for collection of tolls when docking at port. His father, a handsome yet thin fellow with glasses, had once collected the taxes. James looked back fondly at his dear old dad's intellect about the sea and its workings. Yet not many in the town would share the same memories, due to his hated position. Stealing from the poor, some called it. James would correct them at every turn; his father would simply smile sadly. He hated feeling that he was more of the coward for it. When he was older he would certainly not take any flak from anyone- certainly not uneducated buffoons.

One fitfully stormy night, when James was not much younger than he was now, a naval fleet had come to town. His father went out to greet them for taxes as was his duty, but the commodore pushed him aside and refused to pay. Through his walls James heard the muffled man citing something about the Queen's business. He rolled over on his side and imaged what life would have been like as a royal, above the law.

The kiss on his forehead that night would be the last he received from his father, a proud graduate of Eton. After the storm lifted in the morning, his absence left calm waters, as if the hungry sea had been sated. James' pregnant mother ran with her swollen belly from inn to pub to tavern asking if anyone had seen her husband. The townsfolk shrugged with indifference; one less tax to pay. James searched from up and down the shoreline for any sign of the naval fleet. The boats had gone in the night as well.

As he stood in the soggy sand he reassured his young mind, "My father was brilliant, and they must have seen it; they must have wanted him as one of their own- to serve the crown…" He sunk into the damp grains as the waves pulled further out to sea. He held his knees tighter to his heaving chest. At such an age even he knew that comfort came from lies.

His mother fell ill from stress after Anabelle was born. She had grown to dread the towns' people, blaming them for her husband's disappearance. Her once plump, matronly appearance had shrunken inward as if all of her had withdrawn into itself. She refused to take up her husband's position as well, fearing the same fate would befall her. What they had left was the money his father had saved and that which he earned from selling the fish he caught off the dock. Their home felt now much like an island.

All of this he thought of as he was heading to fetch some bread and milk for his sister. The small coins did not give much of a jingle in his pocket. James was absent-mindedly walking about the market, eyeing the exotic fruits and spices and wondering if his father could have told him which ports they came from. His stomach tightened, for now, there was a chance he could live to be like his father outside of this chamber pot of a town. As an alumni of Eton his father had donated a large amount to the school over the years.

It came by post just the day before; an invitation for James to attend the prestigious boarding school. Why, he had done well in his classes- at times he felt years beyond his classmates in the small school house, but he'd never dreamed that his current standing would permit him to attend such a place that was the affirmation of wealth and privilege. It felt like a dream, like a raft being thrown into a stormy sea.

The babe on his back began to make whining noises. "Anabelle." He shushed. The dream began to shine less. How could he leave his baby sister in the care of a mother who could barely feed herself? No, he couldn't, he thought as he leaned over to examine the day old bread. He was about to hand the man behind the desk a dull coin, before he found himself under inspection.

"Tar black hair and blue eyes, must be the tax man's boy." He raised an eyebrow as smoke puffed from the pipe behind his mustache.

"Ain't no tax man not no more." A scantily dressed woman cackled to her comrades as she leaned against the lamp post.

James clenched his hands hard into a fist as his sister began to wale. He wouldn't fight for her sake. He snatched up the baguette and began to run back towards his island of a home.

"Stop- Theif!" The old man hollered.

James' feet flew beneath him as he heard a member of the crowd utter, "No better 'n a pirate. Just like his pop!"

His heart sped and angry tears threatened to fall as he pressed himself towards the dock. The door swung open and shut before he ever saw his mother's eyes. She was always asleep these days anyway. His fists slammed against the wall as a mirror frame wobbled. What were they talking about? They were going to toss that bread anyway! It felt rough in his hands.Not even worth a stupid coin. They don't even know what a real pirate is. I'd show them. I'd show them all exactly who to fear!

He fed his family what he could, a meager dinner of fish and bread, before hauling himself to his cot. He looked at Anabelle sleeping, he envied her blissful ignorance of the plights that faced her future. James threw his legs over the side of the bed and stared intently up at the clear night sky. Somehow, there seemed to be a new glow, to the right of the Northern star. He closed his eyes and wished selfishly for an escape.

That night, James couldn't sleep. He lay with a half empty belly (though food enough to feed Anabelle) staring at the sky between of the peeling shutters. He thought about that new star- it wasn't on any of his father's charts… It seemed to shine like a glint of hope long forgotten with his dreams of attending Eton.

Suddenly, a red-headed face appeared and chestnut eyes smiled back at him. James was too confused to make a noise, though he looked over at his sister to see her still asleep.

The turned back to the freckled face. "Hello," he swallowed. "Who are you and how did you reach my window?"

The boy was clad in a mossy cloth woven with leaves and vine. It was as if he was the forest itself. James concluded it must have been some absurd dream from the hunger. Somehow he must have drifted off.

The face chuckled. "Why I'm Peter, Peter Pan, all the boys in town know that."

"I see." James' jaw tightened.

"You don't go there much, do you? I've never seen you at their sleepovers." The red head's lips curled as he climbed in through the open window.

James stood defensively. "I asked you a question, how did you reach my window? We're on the second floor." A sudden light came in through the opening, it looked as though a candle were falling. "Look out!" He hollered as he stood in front of his baby sister's crib.

"Aw, who's afraid of a fairy?" Pan slapped his knee as the twinkling light came to rest on his shoulder. The boy motioned to the luminescence. "Her name's Tink. She and I are comrades in Neverland."

"Neverland… That's not on any map. You're making this up. Is there a ladder outside?" James looked around the boy. "Did Thomas put you up to this?"

"You're right, it's not onyour maps. And no, no one puts me up to anything. I'm the one in charge of my own destiny."

The phrase pulled at his heart. "Your own destiny, you say?"

"Yes indeed, freedom to do whatever I want every single day. Some of the other boys like it so much I justknow they'll join me."

Jame mulled over the words as he watched the glowing girl. Had he seen it curtsy? How hungry was he?

"Charmed, I'm sure," James gave a weary bow to the glowing light he could now see had quite the figure. "Neverland- never what, exactly?"

"Never a thing you would miss. Never a thing that'd make you feel bad inside."

James felt his stomach eating itself. "Is such a thing even possible?"

"Ain't I proof?" I boy gestured to his lithe, green body.

"I'm not sure." James raised an eyebrow.

"Then, lemme show you! Tink, give him some fairy dust."

"I beg your pardon?" was all that the black-haired boy could say before he was coughing on golden sparks.

"Think happy." The red head commanded.

"Happy?"

"Yeah, what makes you smile?"

The corner of James' mouth twitched. He closed his eyes trying to recall the last time he had felt the emotion. He thought of his father clasping him on the back and speaking of good times at Eton. He thought of his own ambitions. He imagined his sister in brand new clothes. He could see a great, big turkey set before him on Christmas. Suddenly he couldn't quite feel the floor any longer. "What in the world?" His voice waivered as he noted his increasing distance.

"You're flying! Fun, isn't it?" The lost boy grinned triumphantly.

"I suppose…" A confused James was trying to calculate the possibility that a dream could feel so real.

"C'mon! Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning."

"Star?" James echoed as his hand was grasped tightly and he was pulled like a current towards the open window.

He looked back upon his sleeping sister, growing smaller until the house she remained in became a speck on the shore. See you when I wake up.

He was unsure of how long his dream had lasted. It was a beautiful place, a tropical oasis that only a true Englishman living in fog could fantasize. There were thick vines, massive palm trees, and clear blue waves lapping on a white sand shore. And, oh, what creatures he had never seen before! He and Pan walked the shores alone, seemingly the only humans, if in fact he was human…

The played with stick swords, running up and down the rigging of his newly constructed treehouse the two had expanded together. There were several levels, each more impressive than the last. A slide led down to the main room, where there would be a fire if they didn't fear the giant tree would become nothing more than a match stick.

With each passing hour the moments were blurring together into one infinite moment of fun. James was beginning to wonder why he hadn't come to this place sooner. This felt right. It was more of a home to him than the hovel he had left behind. What was he staying there for? His motherly barely treated him as an entity in his household. He knew that he resembled his father and that may have been too much for her to bare. He lay down on the beach, underneath the shade of the palm trees, when he looked up and saw a monkey-like creature staring down at him as it took a coconut. He still didn't know much about the land so he told the animal to shoo. It was then that he saw the little one clinging to its back. "Mother…Anabelle." He breathed.

The green boy noticed him walking down the sandy beach with a foreign sense of purpose. "What are you doing?" He floated alongside him curiously.

"My little sister needs help. I have to get back to England."

Pan laughed merrily. "What do we need girls for? We've got all the fun we need right here."

A strictly adult look came over James' features, "I need to be there for Anabelle."

Peter's nose scrunched up. "I don't like when you do that with your face," He took his friend by the wrist. "C'mon, if you wanna see girls I can take you to see Tiger-"

"Unhand me!" James swatted him away.

The two stood staring in silence, James was breathing heavily as his mind was racing.

"Fine." Pan began his tantrum, "Good luck getting back to that rotten place without my help." With that, the boy was gone over the tree tops.

"No!" James' throat was dry. "Come back here!"

He waited for a moment that felt like a century. Forget that red headed scoundrel, he needed to get home and fast. But how? Of course- the pixie!

James entered the treehouse as if nothing was amiss. He knew just where to go to seek the feisty creature of light. After all, he had helped build her birdhouse.

"Is the little lady home?" James turned on his charm. "My, you're looking lovely today. Is that a new petal dress?" She spun around for him and played with her bun. "I'll take that as a yes. Would you mind if I took a closer look?" He put out his hand. As planned, she flew over and he stepped under the arch of her pixie dust. "Beautiful, as usual." He commented as he patted her head with the tip of one finger.

Now all that was left was to think of a happy thought. Worries swam before his eyes until he thought of the simple, shining letter from Eton. He imagined attending the school and affording an allowance to his sister as she grew. His blind intention led him the rest of the way.

"Mother!" James yelled as he was gliding down onto the dock. The town looked somehow different, shabbier. Could it have been due to the contrast of those pristine shores? "Anabelle!" He called as he knocked on the door. The window to his room seemed as if it had been latched for years. "Let me in!"

An elderly man answered his pleas. James gaped at him in horror. "Where is my mother?" He demanded. The old man shook his head, it was only then that the boy noticed the stethoscope draped around his neck.

"…James." Croaked a familiar voice.

He shoved the doctor aside to cast his eyes upon his mother laying on her back under a pile of shawls. He immediately knelt at her bedside. "Mother!" He cried as the angry tear he had fought in this town for so long had returned.

"Where have you been?" She wheezed, "I thought you'd become your father…"

"I'm here mother, I've only been gone a day." He scanned her clammy skin.

"It's been almost a year." Her eyes were wide, the whites of them now yellowed.

"No…" James' heart dropped in disbelief. "Anabelle," He looked back over his shoulder at the elderly man, "Where's Anabelle?"

The doctor's eyes were solemnly cast to the floor. "Succumbed to the Scarlet fever." His mother spoke up once more. "The same as me, I'm afraid." Her cough was wet with blood.

"There's no way. No way!" James howled indignantly.

His mother's cold hand grasped his. "You won't have to worry about us anymore, my love, we've just been a burden I'm afraid." He could hear the doctor approaching from somewhere far away. "You'll be a fine man, even better than your father. I'm so glad you're safe, I'm so glad…" She drifted off to sleep as the doctor administered morphine.

The autumn after his mother's death James attended Eton. Even if he had a choice, there was nowhere else for him to go aside from the orphanage. He'd inherited the house and a minimal amount of savings, but sold them swiftly and kept the cash in a small chest under his bed. He never returned to the harbor town. The school was the first and only real place he felt like he belonged. But it was too late to live a normal life, that impish boy had darkened his soul; contorted it with desire for revenge. Each night after playing with his mates as a normal schoolboy, James would return to his roost and dream of the day his life had ended. The cries of his mother and sister echoed in the darkness, yet he knew full well that he could not save them. And it was all Peter. Pan's. Fault. He didn't care how long it took, or what underhanded methods it required, the boy's life would be his. _Oh yes._ A life for a life, equivalent exchange was the only way.


	13. Chapter 13

This night again James heard the waling of his mother and sister. "Anabelle!" A younger version of himself called, "Where are you?" The last he had seen of her in truth was her faded headstone. "Mother!" He cried as he felt the Scarlet fever settling into his lungs. The blood was pooling, mixing air with fluid. He gripped at his throat and thrashed against the unseen enemy, clawing at his flesh for a gasp of air.

"James!" A soft voice echoed, "James!" That wasn't his mother. _Anabelle?_ No, she had never made it to the age of speech. "Captain Hook!" He felt as if he were rocking on a gentle wave. That was right, that's who he was now. Who he had always been… His eyes opened slowly against the haze. The first thing that he glimpsed was a worried expression in gray eyes and the fierce pinkness of her skin.

"Wendy… Darling…" His voice was thick as he struggled to accept the only prominent female to enter his life since the end of his bloodline.

"You were screaming." She wiped a damp tendril from his forehead. "Are you all right?"

"Quite so," he made a point of it, "and I'm certain I don't scream." Hook took a breath, "I must have drifted off while you were..." He looked once more upon her to see that she was clothed only in a towel. "Well, you're not in the tub any longer."

"I thought you were in danger…" She flushed, "Pardon my appearance, I wasn't thinking."

Foolish girl. She would get herself into all kinds of trouble acting on instinct alone. "No, you don't do that very often, do you?" He growled. "Do you honestly believe a little girl in a thin shawl of cotton could save me, the captain of this ship, from any dangers I might face?"

"No. I don't." Her voice grew smaller as her body turned crimson. "But I would have tried."

"Stubborn nature is unbecoming for a woman of your age." He attempted to light a cigar left standing on the table.

"What does it matter my gender or my youth?!" She snarled as tears reddened her eyes. "I'll have you know that I left England for adherence to such principles." She puffed, "I thought Neverland would be a bit more progressive, but I should have known it's a boy's club after all!" She spun on her heal and slammed the door behind her.

The captain remained quiet as he looked at the barrier with furrowed brows. He wasn't rather sure of the point he was trying to make. After all, he was far from her father. It seemed he wasn't sure of anything anymore. And here he was out lounging in a hammock in the crew's quarters while the minx had stolen his chamber once again. Blast it all! She was becoming more infuriating than Peter Pan! The kindle lit easily within him and his kettle was boiling with anger. Anger was familiar- this foreign burning was for reasons he could not, dare not, explain.

He took his time in the heated barrel for his bath, calming himself in the warm water. He didn't have the comfort of the balms and products inside of his room, but he settled for the goat milk soap Smee had set out for the next evening. That, at least, he knew was clean. Come to think of it, his first mate was remaining away for unusually long. Had the old man met someone in a tavern? Heaven knows he deserved respite. As usual heaven did not deem Hook worthy of the same. After he had gotten out of the tub, he dried himself with some difficulty, leaving the hook on. He had become accustomed to the help of his first mate and he begrudged the feeling of becoming soft or helpless. That fanned the flames the girl had set in him earlier.

Wait a minute, hadn't she given him a bit of unexpected information? She wasn't here for vengeance on the boy- rather it was in search of an escape. Though the circumstances were certainly different, it reminded him of the reason a young boy had come to the forsaken island all those years ago.

How was it that a child had more freedom than an adult, shouldn't it be the other way around?

* * *

 

Wendy pressed her back wholeheartedly against the door. She did not want that villainous brute barging in! _Ooh, she was so angry!_ And here she thought he was different…

 _Now, why would she think that?_ Because he was a pirate with a hook for a hand? She paused to deliberate as she sank down to the floor. All of this was ridiculous really, rather absurd. She was escaping one irrational world for an illogical one. Shouldn't it make sense that they were the same after all? These people weren't aliens (well, some were pixies and mermaids), the men were human beings. Most of which had come from _Jolly Old_ England. A tear fell that she was determined to make her last one.

 _Why did she care what Captain Hook thought?_ In fact, she should be doing the exact opposite of whatever it was he desired, and be all the more proud for it. Maybe Peter would better understand her quandary and they could fight the crooked Patriarchy together. She laughed mirthlessly and sunk further into the floor. That little boy would always be as such. All grown-ups were obstacles to him. If he saw her, he would shrivel his nose in disgust and stick out his tongue. Even if he recognized her, she would be viewed as a monster. He was an example of misguided youth, as her mother would say. But what was she now? Whose side was she on when she was stuck between ten and twenty? There was no teenager side to the island, and even if there was, she would absolutely abhor it.

She sat for another moment thinking about the way she felt when the captain's blue eyes met hers with an unexpected smile, or when he was wrapped up in her stories and no longer pitching a fit at his crew. How he read his books and carefully plotted his maps, or the way his mouth had swallowed her whole… She shook her head but couldn't shake off the odd shiver that crept up her spine. She assumed it to be one of disgust- what else could it be? It had only been a few days and yet her whole image of the man had been rearranged. He really had become more of an ally this time around, even got her some new clothes and put her up in his bedroom. Her insides were beginning to knot with guilt. She really should be the bigger person to go out and apologize.

Wendy clothed herself in a new azure nightgown to show her appreciation. She slowly opened the wooden door and padded across the timber boards softly; still gaining her sea legs. The captain was no longer seated at the chaise near the door, but he couldn't have gone far. She headed on further feeling a slight anxiety at entering the crew's quarters though she heard they wouldn't be returning. Suddenly, she noted the steam rising from a wooden tub on the further side of the room. Then, she saw his tan muscled arms draped over the sides. Again he was shirtless! She pressed herself on the other side of the wall, feeling an unfamiliar sensation between her legs that mingled with her racing heart when she heard him standing up out of the water. She swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what he looked like. Despite herself she listened intently through buzzing ears, oh he was struggling with a towel, shouldn't she help? No, he wouldn't like that maybe she should go back…

* * *

 

"Wendy…" The captain spoke as he turned the corner to head toward the trunk of freshly tailored clothes his men had retrieved from town earlier that day. _Angry, be angry_ , his brain was telling him to berate the girl for her surreptitious actions. But the carnal confusion on her face had him frozen. His tease about a thimble before now felt like an illicit notion for he knew deep inside if he took that step it may as well have been off a cliff. He noted her eyes dip over his body and he fought against instinct.

"…I'm sorry." She breathed as her wide eyes turned a lighter hue.

" _Sorry?_ " His voice was gruff.

"That's why I came here, I wanted to say I'm sorry." She turned her back to him for his privacy. "I was unaware you were in the bath. I feel… rather stupid tonight."

He could see the red on her ears and took a moment to enjoy her discomfort. She deserved full return on her delivery. "Don't be, dear Wendy, I do have some vestige of decency with this towel." He noticed her flinch and felt a heat at his core. "However, I am missing my first mate if you would like to aide me in dressing." It was a test, of course she would say no, whether it be due to her innocence or his highlight of her impropriety earlier.

"If… you need…" Her wavering voice came forth.

The girl would never learn. She shouldn't trust him so easily, she shouldn't trust anyone! He didn't know what the feeling in his pit was, but it was there instead of the necessary disappointment. "I jest, Wendy." He sighed as he passed her in the hall and grabbed the long night shirt with one fist. "As I've stated before, I'm a highly capable man. Mayhap I'll show you some day."

"…Oh. You're right."

Was that disappointment he heard? Hook slipped behind the comfort of the changing wall in his now open cabin.

Wendy heard the towel drop and could see it, along with his feet, in the opening. Her hands flew to cover her eyes, feeling the heat radiating off her cheeks. Why was she smiling? _Wipe that stupid grin off your face, he could kill you! He's already tried!_

Suddenly, she felt his rough hands on the outside of hers, slowly prying them open.

"All dressed now, Wendy. Not a piece of anatomy to fear." He drawled as he pulled away from her, "If you would like to atone for your earlier actions, I'll allow you to comb my hair." Dear God, she was growing aware of him and if he grew any further aware of her he would have to find himself a crocodile. But something inside didn't want his influence to stop.

"Yes, Captain." She beamed.

James took his spot on his lounge and lay down, leaving his damp locks spread over the top. Wendy took a look around. He had so many creams on his vanity, each from another port. She opened one that appeared French, and it smelled expectedly regal and masculine- very Captain Hook. She smoothed it between her palms and set to work on each strand of hair, easily managing the frizz brought on by the sea. She used a wide bone comb to pick at his curls. Offhandedly she wondered from which animal the ivory came.

After she had dealt with every inch of black silk, she laid the comb on the vanity. Oh, there was hair on his face! Perhaps he wanted her to manage that as well. She used the remaining cream to trail his mustache. The hair felt so much different there, shorter and more stiff. As she trailed her fingers down his trim beard she noticed his lips parting and his chest rising easily. So, her efforts had put the captain to sleep. He may have been a capable man, but somewhere inside was the boy he'd assumed lost in England. And for that boy she imparted a thimble- soft and sweet, lasting and gentle as the summer rain, before she slipped into bed and blew out the light.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the first night he had slept sans agitation of dreams since he could remember. Hook's natural rhythm awoke him before the rays were just peaking over the waves on the horizon. He cast his eyes once more to the angel in his bed, able to remain as such even in his company. Well, soon they two would see what company of Neverland would bring.

James rolled off of his lounge; noting the crick in his neck and the bounce of his curls. Swiftly, the feeling of her nimble fingers in his hair came back to him. Shame grew as he had forgotten himself, falling asleep in front of someone other than his first mate. However, if it came to it, he knew his wiles could win the battle against any fem-fatale... Even one whose mere presence inspired sensations of velvet pressure on his lips. He sat in the stillness of the morning for a moment, watching her even breathing under his coverlet. Strange that he no longer felt a jealous indignation at her use of his things- it rather brought about a possessiveness foreign to him completely.

Time to face the brisk dawn air. Captain Hook, not the wishy-washy man he had been the last few days, would be the one sailing into the cursed isle. That was the one they would all need. He slipped on his garments and, with some difficulty, buckled his belt. Hook attempted to ignore her mumbling as he shrugged into his grand coat.

"Michael… John…" Her lip quivered.

Leaving siblings behind was a topic he could not bring himself to stand cold against, he reasoned, as his boots sounded against the floorboard to her side. His hand cupped her cheek to bring her warmth until the sleep driven tears had stopped falling. Hook easily wiped them away with his thumb and began to climb the steps to the main deck.

The captain cocked his pistol and imagined those wicked chestnut eyes aside the conniving smile as he fired into the air with a mighty boom. "All right maggots," his bellowing voice carried over the chimneys, "return now or the second shot will be at you!" The menacing laugh that followed was reinforcement enough.

Wendy awoke to the sound of a gun and the lingering smell of burnt powder. Her nervous heart was still beating from a disappearing dream. Again she was in the captain's bedstead. Was it silly that she was growing to like it more than her own bed? She was going to have her own room at home too. Would she ever go back? Well, it was really only a temporary bed since they had found her someone to… With Hook's command, she focused on the excitement rather than her thoughts. She could hear the grumbling and shuffling of burly men up the gangplank. Her captain was naming them one by one, with the additional insult, as they boarded. What if one of them were late? Would he really shoot the poor man? Her stomach formed knots as she listened to the strange monikers. From the sounds of 'Patchy' and 'Stubbs' more than one of them was missing a body part. Had Peter taken it from them as well? Was that why so many man were willing to board this ship to challenge a child?

Not a single man arrived late, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. She knew the captain to be a ruthless man, but she did not delight in demonstration. The man whom had fallen asleep in front of her the night before was so feared and revered that it did not strike fear into her, rather a sense of… power. It writhed under her skin and she didn't know what to do with the sensation. Although she was almost certain it was wrong she could not name a reason why.

"Miss!" Smee's urgent whisper outside the door caused her to jump. "Miss, may I come in?"

She swallowed against the strange saliva, "Yes, Mister Smee. You may."

The door opened slowly as a tray of fruit and fine goods from town followed him in. "Looks like we'll be off to the open sea once… Oh my." He stopped.

"Yes?" She sat up straight.

"Well, don't you look pretty in the Cap'n's bed?" He smiled warmly, "Did anything happen last night?" he queried as he placed the tray on the table.

Her face flushed, "No sir!" She breathed, "I was just combing the captain's hair before he fell asleep."

Smee's smile dropped, "Oh dear." Then it came back even wider, "Oh my!"

"What," She leaned forward, "what?"

"Why, the first time I tried to help him tame those locks he tried to blast my face off," He giggled as if it were a fond memory to be threatened. What he wouldn't, could not, say was that he was amazed at how long the girl had remained her virginal self within the captain's presence. Now, Smee was an old man and those carnal urges had long since left him- though he often found himself dreaming of a kind soul and a cottage by the sea. Even so, he knew the captain's voracious appetite for women when he went to town; probably trying to vent frustration, Lord help him. He viewed them only as tools. But, it seemed as if the man had deemed the girl in his bed too precious to use idly. He wondered how Wendy felt about that and what developments it would lead to with a certain flying boy. He decided to dig into exactly how valuable this girl was.

"I know it hasn't been long," He dawdled, "but, did the Cap'n ever get to talking to you about his life before Neverland?"

She looked down at the sheets, "Only bits and pieces." Seemingly with without appetite, she bit an apple that he'd brought. "It surprised me that he attended Eton."

Smee's heart sped faster at the alma mater's mention. Exactly how obsessed had the captain become with this girl since she'd left the island all those years ago? Was it due to her association with Pan? Or… was he saving her to destroy in front of the boy?

"Exactly how much did he tell you?" Smee inclined his head.

"He went back only once."

"…To tear his name from the pages," Smee nodded as if it were a dream, "I were there."

"Were you waiting aboard the ship?" Wendy's brows furrowed.

"No, child. I was the security guard that night." Smee's eyes reflected the morning light. "You see," his voice croaked, "I was always a mate of Cap'ns. Even as a lad."

Wendy gasped, "How?"

"Yes, even this old sack of bones." He laughed sadly as he patted his forearm, "I'd lived my life, you see. Previously during that cold autumn I had lost my wife. We'd had no children, so it was only me in an empty house. I lived near my old school and they generously offered me a job. I enjoyed seeing all the excited young'ns running around during the day. It reminded me of the good ol' times. They were the best of times." He smiled nostalgically, "He was a plucky little boy, very intelligent. I admired that. There always seemed to be a plan behind his blue eyes; often a sadness." He took a breath, "I was watching the grounds that night when I noticed a man atop the building, his feet dangling off the sides as paper showered me like snow. It was the strangest thing." He chuckled, "Then, when I shown the light in his face…" he took a breath, "I wish you could have felt it. I thought the grim reaper had come for me, seeing the features of my long lost childhood friend staring surly back at me."

"Golly." Wendy swallowed.

"We been thick as thieves ever since." He laughed, "Well, we are pirates after all."


	15. Chapter 15

Captain James Hook made a point to linger with his crew longer into that evening. He told himself it was for maintenance of comradery, but he knew the truth. He had to stay away from the harlot with angel's wings… The way he described Wendy almost sounded like Tinkerbell; and he knew that she would just loathe the comparison. He let out a laugh over his brandy.

"High spirits tonight, Cap'n?" Patchy looked at him over the barrel table with his good eye. Well, his only eye.

"Why not, dear boy." Hook's mustache curled with his smile. "We're heading back to our native land to turn the eternal boy into chum for the fishes."

A low cheer resounded from the crowd, each huddled around their own barrel table below deck. Flasks were easy to come by. Melancholy expressions were fading after leaving Erstwhile since many shared in their captain's fervor for returning. Each had a reason of their own.

"Looks like the Cap'n might've had a little fun in town," Stubbs chuckled. He wasn't the brightest of the group. In fact, he had lost a few fingers from bets and gambling debts. He continued to laugh, looking around at his crew members to join in. They all glanced at him and one another in silence.

The captain got up from his regal chair in the corner. The sound of his leather books creaked with the floor boards. They sway of the boat on the water did not throw him off course as he made his way over to the table. "I might have," he said as he examined his hook, which delivered itself swiftly to the place where Stubbs' ring finger would have been. He gave him a wicked grin, "But then again I don't have to tell you, Stubbs, what could have been. I think you've grasped that concept expertly."

At that cue, the crew returned to their merriment as Stubbs' buddy clasped him on the back in acknowledgement of his stupidity. The men continued their drink and smoke until they retired to their hammocks in the wee hours of the morning. It was before dawn when Hook stood on the upper deck, taking over command from Smee to steer the Jolly Roger into the warm waters of Neverland.

"Straight on 'til morning," he heard a soft voice say.

"My Darling girl," He shifted his gaze to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs which ascended to his steering wheel, "what are you doing awake at this hour?" She held on to the railing as she climbed the steps in her blue nightgown, reminiscent of her first appearance the cursed land. This agitated him slightly as she stood at his side. "More importantly, haven't I told you not to set foot out of my chambers?"

Her lips narrowed at his harshness, but she knew it to be a part of his character. Wendy looked out into the vast blackness of the ocean. It seemed to end and begin with his hair. "How can you see in such darkness?" She marveled, already knowing that he used the stars to guide him.

"Answer me."

His voice caused her heart to leap, she assumed from fear. Her eyes examined his and she could feel a strange lump in her throat. "I… It was lonely in there all day."

He took a breath in and out through his nose, "You expect me to be your play thing?" He gave her a look, "Life is lonely, Wendy. Even if you are surrounded by people at your every turn."

"I don't understand how that could be."

"Well, maybe you are on the wrong side of this boat after all," he jeered as the light broke quickly over the horizon, as if someone had lit a candle.

"I most certainly am not," she dared not take his bait.

"Entertain me as to why you are on my ship, again?" Hook's forget-me-nots burrowed into her.

She blushed and looked away. "I can't say."

His hand roughly pinched her chin to force her to look at him, "I believe I deserve an answer, dear Wendy."

She took a swift breath and could feel the heat radiating off her face. The urge in the pit of her was to press her lips upon his in an effort to silence the voice she had sought all day. He could have sensed her thoughts because his gaze shifted to one she had never seen before from any man, and he was looking directly into her eyes.

It was at that moment that foreign appendages were locked under her arms, lifting her higher and higher until the captain seemed like a doll. That was it; that must have been it, she was waking up from a dream.

"Pan!" Hook growled.

Suddenly fear etched through her veins like ice. She did not kick or scream, for she knew Peter would be the careless type to drop her if she squirmed. Where was Tink? She needed her own fairy dust if she were to survive. Her heart was beating through her ears as she saw the island from above, the wind rushing past her in warm gusts.

"You've been hiding things aboard your ship, haven't you? You old cod fish!" The boy tittered. "I haven't seen one of these before, her body's like a mermaid's. Well, except for the tale!" He laughed.

"Stupid boy," Hook sneered, "you fail to recognize what you've never truly had."

"Do you know what he's talking about?" He beamed as his chestnut eyes examined her face.

She was filled with so many emotions that she didn't know how to express or understand, "Peter." She smiled against the tears.

His expression suddenly became foreign to anything she had seen on the redhead as his eyes grew wide and he dropped her. I knew you would do that, Peter. Her lids closed sadly as she fell weightless and parallel to the Earth. Wendy heard Hook shout something as the water broke beneath her. The sound died as she kicked swiftly to the surface, afraid of more than her wet clothing pulling her under. "Help!" She sputtered, not caring who or what would rescue her.

She had heard that one shouldn't thrash about in the water or it would attract sharks. But what was the case with mermaids? Peter remained still and senseless, peering out of the sky as if it were a ledge.

What could be so wrong Peter? Where have you been and what have you done? I thought you cared, why haven't you come for me? Why won't you save me?!

A row boat approached her and a strong bicep wedged itself under her arm. "Grab hold of the boat, Wendy; don't tip us over. Kick when I say it's time."

"Is there something in the water?" panic reigned over her features.

"Calm yourself, I'd simply rather remain dry. Ready? One, two, three…"

Wendy kicked hard, feeling something hit her foot which sent her rocketing even harder into the boat. "Steady, now." Hook reassured as she dropped into the vessel with a sound like a mop hitting the deck.

She glanced back to see a green tale breach the surface and disappear and began to sob uncontrollably, "You lied!" Her hands covered her face as he draped her in a towel.

"Take your hands off her, Hook!" Peter shouted from somewhere above.

"Imbecile!" Hook disparaged, "I wouldn't have them on her if you hadn't let her go."

"She's crying now because of you!"

"No, _Peter Pan_ ," He chewed the name like gristle, "She crying because of you. And for many nights I'm sure. You're no hero. You're nothing but a petulant child who lives inside his own head!"

The sudden sadness that struck the boy caused him to dip in the sky before he zipped away to his plot on the island. Clouds were now gathering in the clear blue sky, threatening to drop upon them a new ocean. Hook said no more to Wendy, noting that he had already said enough with the way his arms were enveloping her. Honestly, it was almost as if she had been waiting on the boy to save her…

Smee rowed them back in silence, ensuring that the boat was secured to the pulley system before tugging them up.

"Mister Smee, lay anchor."

"Aye, Cap'n." The old man followed suit.

"You," he gave an angry look at Wendy, "come with me."

"Captain!" She squealed as his hand dug into her arm, "that hurts…"

He threw her into his quarters and shut the door. "Strip," he commanded.

"I beg your pardon!" She flushed.

"I won't have you spreading a cold about my ship, woman. Now, strip."

"Can't I have some privacy?"

"I believe we have a pertinent need to talk. Now."

"All… All right." Wendy stuttered as she began to unbutton the top of her chemise.

"You came back for him," Hook's voice was dangerously low, "didn't you?"

"Not really… no," Wendy's cheeks felt fuzzy and her eyes were tired from tears, "please, Captain, this is rather embarrassing."

"Your flesh or your truth becoming naked?"

"Both!" She hollered, at wit's end.

"Provide me both and I'll leave you be."

Wendy stepped out of her night clothes and left them in a pool on the floor. Her skin was gooseflesh, nipples pert and the shade of a new spring rose. Between her legs was a small patch of honeyed curls much like her head. "I came to avoid marriage," she stated confidently, "and I came to find anyone who might aide me in doing so."

"Marriage?" Hook's brows lifted.

"Arranged marriage."

"And why not be well provided for all the rest of your days?"

"Love," she declared, "only true love should end in marriage."

He barked a laugh. "How progressive, or is it childish? Do you have a lover?" Hook inclined his head.

"If I did, I wouldn't be here."

"A child after all." He derided. There was a silence as Hook stroked his beard in contemplation. "Get dressed," he acknowledged as he turned around and closed the door behind him, leaving her naked in every sense of the word.

 _Childish_ , she thought, _what was revenge if not the same?_


	16. Chapter 16

Hook's back slammed against his chamber door, visions of her sweet flesh behind closed eyes. He had been rather cruel, but what was he if not a villain? She had spoken the words so surely that he was most tempted to believe her. It would seem she had bared her body and soul; that was why she was alive right now and dressing in the clothes he had bought her. If this turned out to be another trick like her last so many years ago, he would surely have a new name for revenge. Although, it would be almost too easy and saccharine to exact. He would have to exact it over and over again... _Marriage_ , he mused, _when was the last time I'd even thought of the word?_

* * *

 

Perhaps she was rebellious. Wendy didn't feel much like pressing herself into a whale bone corset and combing her hair. She didn't feel like doing much anymore. She had exposed herself completely. When one feels too exposed they lose themselves, her mother would say. Only the one who marries you should see you from all facets, her mother's voice echoed in her mind, and when he sees your weakness he will give you strength. At his weakness, it's only fitting to provide the same.

Brilliant notions, Mother, Wendy thought to herself, but my weakness is exposed and I feel like I'm crumbling.She jumped into the velvet comforter and wrapped it around herself. The rain on the windows was comforting, reminding her of a home she'd left. Was it worth leaving? Wouldn't she have felt the same if she'd married in London? How many days had passed, or was it weeks, or years? Perhaps they would be so happy to have her back they would let her chose her husband. But how was one supposed to find love? Especially with such a wicked distraction in the way. Wendy exhaustedly fell to sleep.

The Captain visited her in dreams. Here he was a London man, elegantly dressed as always, yet in more street appropriate attire. Suspenders fit him nicely under his jacket and over his white collared shirt. His facial hair was trimmed, with the characteristic twist still on his mustache. His long curls were tied back. He reached out for her hand with a genuine smile and she grasped it, smiling back from under her sun umbrella as they strolled through the park on a summer day. Her family shared with them a picnic, and at last her soul was at peace.

* * *

 

Peter hunkered down in his tree fort, pouting over his curled fist.

"Wassamatter boss?" The skunk boy asked sleepily.

"Wendy bird." Peter spoke through his fist.

"A Wendy bird? We haven't seen one of those in a long time!" The fox boy chimed in from his bunk. "Do we try and shoot it out of the sky like Tink said?"

"Have you forgotten?" Peter shouted as he stood up, "She's your mother!"

"But we had plenty of mothers, they only played for a little while," The twins spoke in unison, "why's Wendy any different?"

"That thimble," Peter paced back and forth on the branches lining the floor, "she made me feel funny so I couldn't play with her anymore."

Tink poked her head out of the birdhouse.

"What should we do, leader?" One of the boys asked.

"She's being held captive by Hook," Peter spoke as the group gasped in unison, "We've got to get her back, and then she can stay and be a real mother to us. She's changed, but I can tell she's not completely grown up."

"She's changed?" A squirrel boy asked, "But how can somebody not be a kid and not be a grown-up?"

"You'll see, maybe we can make her a kid again," Peter nodded, "I know she'll like us better than that sullen old cod fish!"

"Yeah!" The boys shouted as they held their sticks and sling-shots high.

* * *

Tinkerbell had always known this Wendy creature to be trouble. She had been comfortable in her life until Peter developed his mother complex. She also knew how his shadow often sought out the Darling household even though he never did. His shadow discerned his true intentions. She also knew that if he followed the path he was on with that girl, Peter would grow up. And what would happen to her if he did? So much of the magic in Neverland was tied to him, the whole fabric of the place could very well tear apart! And what would happen to her if it did? Would she fall down dead? What would happen to the orphan lost boys? Tink stomped her foot in midair. Oh, she hated that selfish, thoughtless Wendy girl! But how could she play this right? If she was being held captive on Captain Hook's ship, perhaps she could sway him.

She flew above the Jolly Roger, seeing the men moving about below deck due to the rain. Her eyes through the port hole spied Wendy under the sheets on the captain's bed and her body glowed with recognition. Did he fancy the girl? If so, how much? Could it be enough to get him out of Neverland and give Peter a greater chance for survival? Oh, she knew that they were good playmates and all, but his games were getting awfully dangerous as of late… And it would be nice to have a day without war: lounging about the tree house with Peter, only Peter, as the other boys played without fear.

She flew in through an open window and found Captain Hook, tugging lightly on his collar. "Ah, if it isn't Tinkerbell," Hook poured on the syrup, "to what do I owe the occasion?" Tink communicated in her bell sounds, similar to the Morse code that James had learned from his father as a boy. He took himself away from the oblivious crew and shut the two of them into a large storage closet. The fairy was their only light.

"Yes," he replied in a low voice, "Wendy is on my ship, of her own volition."

Bell sounds.

He laughed at her response, "Oh, you don't care? No, I don't suppose you would."

Tink chimed another message.

"Keep her here? Why, where else would she go? This is where she wants to be." Tink raised an eyebrow. "Honest. I am a pirate but I didn't take her from her home. She came to me. And I think there was some fairy dust involved to get her here," his hook twisted dangerously at the pixie, "Why did you bring her here, Tink?"

Her eyes widened at the accusation as she remembered being grabbed by the girl. She tried to convey the message without mentioning Peter's shadow.

"Snatched you out of the London sky?" Hook laughed, "Yes, I could see that impertinent girl doing so. Once she has an idea, she'll see it through," He looked at the pixie, "but what was her idea in coming here?"

Tink shook her head slowly. He would not gain the confirmation he wanted.

"I see, we're at a loss. Let me guess- Pan and his pals want to stage a rescue?"

Tink rolled her eyes and nodded.

"Let them come. Then we'll see her true desires."

Tink's jaw dropped before she chimed a response.

"You don't want to chance it?" Hook queried, "That makes two of us."

Tinkerbell blinked as she came to an understanding of his words, the captain didn't want to lose her. So, he was fond of her after all. She hoped with all of the magic in her that Wendy liked him as well. She responded playfully in code, I'm going to make sure I don't see that nasty girl crowding up my home.

Hook laughed darkly, "That would indeed be the poorest decision in her book."

Tink swallowed at the venom she knew lay behind those words as she nodded and flew off. She smiled to herself; it seemed the captain would take care of her Wendy problem either way.

* * *

 

It was dusk before Wendy woke again. The feeling of a warm hand was upon her shoulder. "Captain?" She spoke thickly as remnants of her dream stuck with her.

"Wendy!" The voice was quick and eager, "It's me, Peter!"

"Peter?" Her eyes shot open to see the familiar freckled face of the boy in green. He had remained boyishly handsome and untouched by any signs of age: he was youth itself. It was so strange to see someone you had been twelve with remain at that age. She felt chills upon recalling Smee's statement about the grim reaper. "Peter?" She struggled to come to terms with the situation, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to rescue you," He began to put his arm under her body wrapped in the covers.

She swatted at his hands, recalling that she was naked. "I don't need your help!" She blushed.

He knelt on the bed beside her, "But you look like you've been crying," he placed his hand on her face under her eyes. She couldn't help but notice how small it was compared to the captain's, but the notion of caring was nice. It reminded her of why she had gifted him a thimble. Nonetheless she knew his kindness came at a whim, much like his tantrums.

"Yes, Peter," she replied as if she were talking to her youngest brother, "I've had a rough day. But I took a nap and I feel better now."

"You don't have to feel better, you can feel great!" Peter urged, "C'mon, take off those old gaudy blankets and join the lost boys and me on some furs. We can have fun like we used to."

"Please, Peter," she insisted, "I'd rather you not see what's under this blanket. Besides I like…"

"What is it, is it a present? Did you come back to give me something, Wendy?"

She bit her lip, "No. No, Peter. As I was saying…"

"Now I've just got to see!" Peter crowed as he tugged at the bottom.

"Stop it!" She called as she pulled from the top.

"Tug of war, that's one of my favorites!" He chortled.

"Peter, stop it this instant! I won't ask you again!"

He feigned stopping long enough to give her false security before he pulled the velvet clear off. "Wendy…" He blinked as his eyes unabashedly observed her form. A tremor beneath the island of Neverland causing the boat to sway in the aftershock.

Hook had been listening through the door long enough to know to intervene. "That's enough, Pan," he sneered, "It seems that you need another lesson in manners if you can't listen to the lady." He took a moment to throw her the blanket to cover herself. This time he would afford Wendy her privacy.

Peter appeared distracted from Hook's bait as Wendy was covering herself.

The captain then unsheathed his sword, "We've tied your friends to the mast. They've never been very good at fighting." He grinned cruelly, "I'm not sure one of them will make it."

"Hook!" Peter's brow furrowed as he flew past him to check on his comrades.

The captain gave a repentant look at Wendy whom now had her head tucked into her arms wrapped around her knees covered with the blanket. He closed and locked the door, promising to himself that he would reward her candor somehow; if the day hadn't broken her first.

Swashbuckling took place above deck and the cry of a certain flying boy could be heard as the sword dug into his shoulder. One lost boy must have escaped the knots and set his friends free. A fairy was dancing in front of Hook's face, possibly berating him for allowing this plan of action. The battle ended swiftly in a call for retreat. Hook's crew gave a winning shout. There would be more drink and merriment tonight.

* * *

 

Hook knocked on his own door this time, allowing the girl to gather herself. He gave her a moment with no response before entering. He found her in the very same spot he had left her. "Wendy…" He cooed as he came to sit at her side. Her hair was a frizzy, curly mess. "I thought I had told you to get dressed."

"What does it matter," she huffed, "The whole world has seen me now."

"Myself and some prat being the whole world?"

"In this place, it would seem so," she sniffled.

He placed an arm around her, not forcefully so, but to console her. At first she flinched, then warmed to his contact. Hook then got up and picked a garment from her chest of drawers. "I like this one, if you would wear it for me."

Here came the sugar after the storm. Were all men built like this? Her eyes peered over her bare arms. They seemed bluer now, in contrast to the pink blotches on her face. "You wear it," she kept her eyes trained on his.

Hook responded with a shocked expression until he saw her smile widen. "Oh, but it wouldn't look right with my boots." He played along, before throwing it to her on the bed. She easily put her arms in the holes, pulling the lose dress over her head whilst not giving him a gander at what treasures lay under his blanket. He turned away nevertheless. "I know, what with your notion of love and all that, that you would rather save its vision for you wedding night, but it means nothing less if another has seen or touched you. A body is a body, while a soul is another matter entirely."

"I see. But something has kept you from looking," She commented, "you may turn around now."

Thankfully she was clothed. "I believe, mademoiselle, the word is decency. My… temper has caused me to lack in such."

"And trust," She added.

"Yes…" He sustained, "Lacking in faith and trust... Although I gain pixie dust from time to time."


	17. Chapter 17

Wendy wrapped the covers around her in the chill of the evening. "You say a body means nothing, but I doubt you would show yours to any man."

"Any man, no. But the right woman…"

"Aha! So it does mean something."

"Perhaps," his lips quirked.

"Have I gained your trust?"

He took a moment, "We have the beginnings of such." He pointed at her with his hook, "Not so far as Smee, though."

"Well, I don't trust you in the least!" She crossed her arms.

"I won't pretend to be surprised." He hummed, "Why should you trust a pirate captain?"

Her lips became a thin line, "Don't you think my trust would be useful?"

"At keeping flying brats away?" He grinned, "Conceivably."

"Would you show me to your crew?"

"You shouldn't trust them more than you don't trust _me!_ " He admonished, "They haven't got decorum in the least, especially when it comes to young women."

"They sound like they're having fun out there tonight," she sulked.

"It's the drink," he stroked his beard, "but I believe you're old enough to partake in that." Hook got up from his lounge and grabbed a flask from his desk, "Here. Have as much fun as they are."

Wendy took a whiff of it, "It smells awful!"

"Burns, too." He commented, "But if you'd like to see the adult side of the island- this is fairly well it." He sat down on the bed beside her. "That should calm your nerves a bit, love."

She took a drink as if it were water. He laughed as she sputtered for breath. "Why on Earth would one drink that?" She wheezed.

"You'll see in time. Perhaps a nice chalice of red instead?"

"Yes, I have seen my father drink that."

Hook paused at the foreign word, "Yes…" he gave a rare sort of smile, "mine as well."

He poured them each a goblet and sat back on the longue across from her. "This tastes better," she nodded. "What was your father like?" After a silence she was about to change the subject.

"He was a brilliant man, gone too soon," he stalled before taking a drink, "I told you dear heart, I won't tell you all of my secrets. What sort of fun would I be if I did?"

"My father always had a stick up his bum," she giggled.

"That must be the rum talking," Hook smirked over his glass.

"Why do you say that?"

"Alcohol makes you say silly things; even if they are the truth," He quoted, "In vino veritas."

"I don't need wine to tell the truth."

"One of the lucky few."

"What happens to adults to make them so jaded?"

"Life." He put his glass down on the table, "You wouldn't be here if life hadn't happened to you, everyone on this ship had a choice. They wanted to escape life, as we are doing with this drink. The lost boys on the other hand… are incapable of consent. Life really hasn't happened to them yet. Nor will it ever."

"That seems sort of sad," she sipped.

"So we drink," he cheered her with a clink of metal.

"You said my trust would be of value to you," she continued after a moment, "do you know how you could obtain that?"

"I haven't the slightest," he looked over the rim.

"Well, you could do what I did. For instance, let's say, you could strip," she smiled innocently.

"Oh, ho, ho, no."

"Oh, ho, ho, yes. I won't be the only one on this ship to be made bare."

"I could get Smee back in here if you like."

"James!" She admonished.

The two looked at one another for a moment before the warmth enveloped her face. He smiled, "I see you blushing, little girl. You should not ask for what you're not willing to receive."

"It's about time I learn the anatomy of a man, as you said, a body is a body."

"Haven't you seen your brothers?"

"I said a man," she looked into his eyes determinedly.

"You think that I am to stand here and simply let you look?"

"You thought the same of me," she drank.

"Bad form," he susurrated as he poured more into their glasses. Then he took off his grand coat, "Are you comfortable, Wendy?"

"Yes," she nodded from her perch on the bed, "You mean you're really going to…"

"Only because I'll have to put on my night clothes. Be a dear and fetch them out for me."

She gave a wide grin and came back with fresh cotton. He began to unbutton the ruffled blouse he was wearing, slowly, watching her eager eyes watch him. He wondered how far her mind went under his linens. Did she have any concept? "Would you like to help?" He asked, "It can be difficult with this appendage and all."

"Certainly." She cheered as she helped him slip off his shirt.

"Now my boots." He instructed.

"Did this somehow turn into my being your servant?"

"Perhaps," he grinned as she followed suit. She slid them off his feet, taking the stockings with her. Then she moved up to put her hands on the wide buckle of his belt. "Are you sure? Once you've seen me you'll be ruined for your wedding night," he joked.

"What wedding night?" She chortled, "I'm in Neverland. I came here because I knew true love wouldn't find me in London."

He placed a hand on hers at the cusp of his pants, "And here you might?" He asked with a certain seriousness.

She took a moment to examine his face, the wine was making everything fuzzy. "No! No. I don't know what I thought. I just wanted to get out of a loveless marriage."

"Ah," he commented, "but suddenly I find myself not wanting to get out of these pants."

"How come?" She tugged him towards her, using the belt effectively.

"Careful, Wendy," he warned.

"All right then," she sat back, "you're still a villain in my book."

"Strange logic when I would appear more so doing as you desire."

"I am Red Handed Jill after all."

"Well, with the way you grasp that chalice, I'd say you are!" They both sniggered.

"It's fine. Seeing you without your shirt is enjoyment enough."

He raised an eyebrow, "Enjoyment?"

Her face felt flush as she looked down into her glass, "Well, everyone enjoys looking at handsome things; that's why people visit museums."

"Wendy Darling, are you saying I'm a work of art?"

" _Heavens no!_ " She squeaked.

"Never liked museums," he sipped, "being so close to something you can't even touch."

She put a hand on his bicep, "See? If I can touch you, you can't possibly be a work of art."

He stood up, "No," his heart sounded in his ears, "I guess I couldn't be." Hook ran a hand through his hair, "I'm going to catch some night air."

"I apologize," Wendy took back her hand, "if I've made you uncomfortable."

"You're simply torturous," he said with a straight face, causing her to laugh. She didn't know how honest he was.


	18. Chapter 18

The captain stood on deck, looking out into the pitch black jungle where he knew angry chestnut eyes were glaring back in his direction. The boy was somewhere, clutching his bandaged arm, discovering a new kind of pain.

 _Yes, she's aboard my ship._ He scoffed to himself, _it makes you feel kind of funny, doesn't it? Like having your favorite toy ripped away. Only, she's not your toy. Nor does she want to be back in your hands. If only you could feel how insistent her hands are_ … He looked down at his, recalling that he only had one left to explore with.

The drink was lowering his guard a bit too much for one seasoned pirate captain. That's when he realized that he was just looking for an excuse, any excuse, to push her over the precipice and bring her to his side. Yes, somewhere deep within him it was still about sides. The cunning man that he was, he knew that if she was smitten with him then she would be wrapped around his little finger. Even more so if he broke through that thin veil of flesh… That was what this hellish place did, made you think of people as pawns: the members of his crew, the lost boys. Smee. Yet, in this peculiar game of chess, each side of the board had shared a queen.

On the other hand, you could very well argue that Tinkerbell was Pan's, so why shouldn't he have Wendy? One side didn't need two queens and the fairy had documented that point. He chastised himself for not strategizing one hundred percent of the time. All's fair in love and war. She should know that. In fact, he still questioned what the girl would have done if Pan had found her first. The darkest part of his soul screamed that it would have been the same as when she was twelve. He would have killed her and the eternal boy without remorse. But when he told himself those words, another part of his soul whispered, then why haven't you done it before? Why has it taken you so long to kill someone who isn't even a man? He lit his cigar to ensure that the boy saw him, from wherever he was, and that he knew tonight was worth celebrating.

Peter looked at the amber light reflecting on the water off in the distance. He walked in the waves that lapped on the shoreline, feeling for once too tired to fly. Or was it unhappy? No, never! There was no way he could be unhappy, not when he had Tink and the lost boys to play with. Even the old cod fish proved fun to pester on most days. His angry face was always hilarious, except for today for some reason.

He hadn't seen Tiger Lily in a few days. Maybe he should go play with the tribe. As he thought about the raven-haired squaw, a juxtaposed image came to mind, causing his brain to hurt. Why did Wendy have those things on her chest? How had her legs gotten so long? And what on Earth was between them… "Peter!" Her indignant voice echoed in his mind as he sat down on the cool sand. He smiled as he recalled her scolding him and her younger brothers all those years ago. "She's still the same, no matter what. She'll be a lost girl," he spoke to the creatures in the dark, "I know it."

As the captain finished his cigar he returned to the depths of his cabin to see Wendy rolling about on the floor; the bottle of port drained beside her. His good hand pawed his face, "Grant me strength."

"Cap'n!" She beamed at him.

"Aye?" He smirked at how similar she sounded to Smee.

"Feeling aaall better now."

"I can see that," He nodded, "it'll only be a matter of hours before you don't. Have you ever heard of the saying, everything in moderation, dear girl?"

She laid down, "It felt good, so I thought more would be even better!" She pealed into laughter.

"Heaven forbid I should live any of my days without seeing children make fools of themselves," he sat down on his bed.

She stood up quickly, "I'm neither a fool nor a child!"

Her stumble into his lap should have been expected, but he was caught off-guard by her heavy warmth. "I can see that," he spoke as he tried to straighten her limp body.

She merely wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him, "You smell like smoke."

Hook sat perfectly still, looking at her from the corner of his eye, rooming over the curvature of her back, "That I do."

She pulled her head out of the crook of his neck and followed his eyes as they moved between hers. Wendy brought her lips up to his and he responded so instinctively that he nearly lost himself. She had been the one to taste him, her tongue inexpertly sliding against his. Her mouth was like the sweet, crisp red he'd given her- and almost as intoxicating. "Wendy Darling," He spoke against her swollen lips, "you're drunk."

"I wanted to see if you tasted as you smell," She smiled before going in for another round, "you do." Her tongue pushed against his and he couldn't help but push back with his; other organs desperately seeking to do the same. He could drink her for as long as she would allow, but right now she was a dangerous poison. If he went too far, he risked running her off the boat entirely.

"And you taste like wine," he exhaled against her lips, "and while there is truth in it, I find acquiescence lacking."

"What?" She pulled away with a grin.

"One cannot sign an agreement if they cannot read the words."

"I can read just fine, thank you," she retorted as she slumped onto the bed.

He swallowed as her thigh brushed his loin. Her legs were tangled with his, an intersection of parallel and perpendicular lines. "Read me a story then, Wendy," his spoke as he grasped her ankle which was attached to the foot sliding against his skin.

She gasped at his roughness, although she did not dislike it, as she picked up a book she had been perusing on the bedside table. Wendy squinted hard, "Why, I can't read a thing!" She knelt on the bed next to the captain, "Was the drink poison? Am I going blind?!"

"Nonsense," he laughed, "I see you weren't lying about your lack of trust. Can you not see me?"

She squinted close to his face in the same manner as she approached the book, caring little for the propriety of one lost Wendy Darling. "Yes," She answered, "I could see those forget-me-not eyes through the thickest fog."

"It would seem they've served their purpose."

"How so?" She tilted her head, nearly falling at the shift in balance.

"You haven't forgotten me after all these years, have you? Oh yes, you've grown, but your mind must have stayed here in Neverland. I loathe to admit, I was the same way."

"I've often dreamt of you," she affirmed with a yawn.

His throat tightened. He was used to similar praise from the women of Erstwhile, but then again they always knew where to find his coin. It was strange hearing such words from one sans discernable motive. "Have you now?"

"Certainly," she nodded as she came to rest her head on his shoulder. "The world is spinning."

"You shouldn't move so much, dear heart. What did you dream of?"

"You were always angry and yelling, a fire emanating from your eyes."

"Is that how you see me?" He looked down at her closed lids.

She tried to shake her head no, but he held it still with his good hand. "It's how I saw you when I was a child. I was on the side that made you furious, so how could I see you any other way?"

"Unthinkable for a child see an adult as human being. And yet?"

"Today I dreamt of us, back in England."

"Us?" His mouth felt dry as he stared ahead, not daring to see the smile on her rosy face. A strange and foreign fear crept over his heart as she described their civilized day at the park. He was at a loss for words as he tried to recall the people and towns outside of his vast, blue prison. By the time he came back to himself, he noticed her soft and even breathing. He was glad at not having to formulate a reply. Perhaps he would put on those night clothes she laid out, lose himself in a good book and a fine port. He gently shifted her weight off of him, allowing her to lie as she had been, across the foot of the bed.

After his shirt was removed, he began tugging at the latch on his brace. In Neverland this appendage was him, he was Hook in name and ability. Perhaps that was why tonight he felt strange removing it, as if it would take him back to the place and person he could have been without Pan.

Would he be walking under that rare blue of a London sky in summer? No doubt it would not be beside the girl whom lay upon his bed. What season was it now, over there? How was it, again, that snow felt like as it gently dotted your face? Did it make a sound as it piled on the empty streets? His arm started to shake, rattling the apparatus.

A smaller hand gently reached out to steady him. "I'll help you get dressed," she smiled sleepily.

He nodded mutely, too perturbed to argue any longer. As she moved the sharp, silver part of him away from his body without fear. She placed it almost lovingly in the velvet case at his bedside. Then she did the most peculiar thing, she kissed the spot at his wrist where there was once a hand- as if it were a scrape on a child's knee. Hook was quick to cover his phantom limb, recoiling as if her lips were the ice that crept up his spine. Oh Wendy, if that were all it took to heal… She had reached a place somewhere deep inside of him he'd forgotten to guard. "Leave me," came almost silently from his lips.

"Captain?" her eyes blinked wide.

"Smee!" He called out into the hall. The other men carried on, unperturbed by the usual occurrence.

"Yes Cap'n?" Smee saluted.

"Take her away."

He looked over at the confused girl on the captain's bed, one thousand and one scenarios forming behind his spectacles. Hook clutched his first mate's cheeks with one hand, "Did you hear me?" He growled, "That's an order."

Smee took a moment before nodding in a daze, "Right away, Sir." He spoke before he approached Wendy, "Come along now," he cooed as if he were coaxing a cat, "the Cap'n needs his rest. Grab your cloak from town."

She stood up unsteadily as Smee caught her arm, "I don't understand…"

"No." Hook balled his fist as he approached her swiftly, "No, Wendy Darling, you haven't an inkling. Now get out."

Her face flushed as a new anger surged through her veins, "I should have never came to this wretched island! There's obviously nothing worth chasing here!"

"Hah!" Hook waved as he turned, fearful of the truth on her face.

"Come on, this way Miss," Smee carefully guided the girl towards the door.

"I won't be in need of your assistance," she shrugged him off, "I'll be taking my leave."

Hook stood facing the dark windows for a moment, coal forming in the pit of his stomach at the only other possible exit from this isle. "No," he spoke under his breath. "Wendy," he turned back, "I **forbid** you to leave this ship."

"You must be mistaken, Captain," she smirked, "I've left my father in England." Within a wink she was out the bedroom door and above deck in the ocean air.

"After her," Hook snarled at Smee, turning back to his aperture. There was no way he could face her or Pan as unguarded as he felt at that moment.

"Peter!" She cried out as she stood on the bow of the ship.

"Miss, Wendy, _please_ …" Smee pleaded softly, "Whatever the Cap'n did I'm sure he didn't mean nothing by it… That's just the way his is, that's all."

The alcohol was rushing through her blood, deafening her ears, causing her to focus on her only goal of escape. I'll go home, she told herself, he'll take me back to my family and this will all have been some strange and wonderful dream.

"Wendy!" The red head was hovering above her within minutes, "Do you need a rescue?"

"Peter!" She replied. "Peter, take me home. I want to go home," she sniffled.

"Sure I will, Wendy," he swept her up, one arm under her legs the other at her back. She may have hoped for it at twelve, but it left an empty feeling inside of her as they soared high into the sky.


	19. Chapter 19

Wendy's head throbbed as a soft light danced upon her closed eyelids. Her mouth felt awfully fuzzy and she was in desperate need of water. One thing was for sure- she never wanted to think of wine again. In Vino Veritas, his smooth voice came sailing like his ship through her ears. Oh no… what had she done? She'd kissed him and behaved so inappropriately! She was obscene and angry, absolutely nothing like the girl she was in waking life. How could she face him now? Well, it's not like she needed to. After all, Peter had been flying until morning, hadn't he? She must have fallen asleep awaiting the break of dawn. She ought to be home at this moment. Wendy pulled up the covers to bury her head against the light that brought a whole new meaning to the word headache. To make matters worse she was still dizzy. Wait a minute, her quilt at home never felt so shaggy; not unless Nana was sleeping on her. She blinked open her swollen eyes as she felt the smooth fur between her fingers. There lay several pelts strewn about her.

"Wendy, are you awake?" the eager boy hovered over her.

"I suppose I am," she stalled, "but why aren't I in London?"

"London?" Peter scrunched his nose, "Why would you want to go there? You said you'd like to go home, so that's where I brought you."

"This is your home, Peter, not mine." She ran a hand over herself in brief fear of lack of clothing. At least this time she had her night gown.

"I… I really can't stay," she struggled to sit up.

"Why not? You've been here so many days already."

Adrenaline flooded her. Oh, how did that translate in the real world? She had lost track of the actual time she'd been on the island. "That's exactly why I have to go back. I need to see my father, and my mother. By now my youngest brother is certainly older than me!"

"You're your own mother, Wendy," he laughed. "You're our mother, and I'm the father to these lost boys."

"I don't want to play house!" She bit out, fearfully observing the boy's annoyed reaction. She sighed in realization. So, she really did have to play everyone's game to get off this island. She needed as many allies as she could get. Hook was right, everyone was a pawn, including her. She tucked her knees to her chest at the awful thought of being used. Could she manipulate him as he'd accused? Would she even want to? "That's right," she steeled herself to think of a plan, "I'd almost forgotten."

Peter beamed wider than she had ever seen before.

* * *

 

It was the first night Hook had spent in his own bed. It was also the first time in a long time he'd slept with the apparatus attached to his wrist; even if he knew it couldn't fight off the demons inside of his head. He'd been glad to wake up without the familiar crick in his spine. Oh how he had missed the plush comfort he afforded for himself. And yet, this morning something missing. How many days had the girl been in his cabin? If he was honest with himself it felt like years; as if time were set into motion once more. Perhaps it was the constant taunting her body afforded him: the smooth perfection of her milky skin, the delicious wetness of her mouth. The thought of her was teasing him all over again. The fact that he was thoughtful of her meant that he'd given her too much power already. She must have known it. Why else would she feel free to ravage a murderous pirate?

He took a breath in and out of his nose before he called for Smee to aide him in dressing for the day. It wasn't that he couldn't do it himself, but as a captain, the less strain the better. There was no use in thinking of the young woman now, she was likely back in her native land dealing with a very different reality than the one she'd left. He knew firsthand what it was like to be flung into the future while expecting everything to be just as you'd left it. Only nothing was. In place of your house lapped the waves of the sea, built upon the roots of your favorite climbing tree was a general store. That hill that you sat on to look at the town, why, the town was no more. Nothing was scared, sans for everlasting Eton. Perhaps that was why he clung to it so. He would usually laugh at his enemy's misfortune, only, could he call her one? She was disobedient at most…

"Mornin' Cap'n," Smee greeted with a bow, helping him adjust his attire. Hook sat as his first mate grabbed a brush on the dresser, beginning to tease out the knots from the evening before.

"Not so hard Smee," he commanded, "I've got a dreadful headache."

"Sorry Cap'n," Smee laughed, "I know I haven't quite got the nimble fingers of your lady friend."

"What?" Hook turned with a sudden fury.

"Oh, that's right… She was the one who told me she combed your hair," Smee nodded in recognition old men often do when they're proud of remembering something.

"She practically took me by the roots," Hook hunched over in his chair, abandoning his proud posture.

"My apologies, Sir." Smee stated.

"Yes, well, it's not likely that we'll see her any longer. What with her discovering the shambles of what was left in London." He struggled to place an appropriately wicked smile on his face.

"I wouldn't be so sure. That Peter Pan had an awful glint in his eye; you know the one."

"What?!" Hook stood up from his chair, facing Smee.

"Yessir," he toddled, "I reckon she's stuck with those misbehaving tots right now."

"Why wouldn't he take her home as asked?"

"Well now," Smee looked over his spectacles, "I should think that you of all people would know the answer to that, hoarding her up in your quarters like some bird in a cage."

Hook's brow furrowed, "I was only keeping her safe from the crew."

"One word from their captain and you could trust they wouldn't lay a paw."

"That's the thing Smee, I can't trust. Not them, not her."

"As you say Cap'n," Smee nodded as he finished putting on his characteristic red coat, brushing off the shoulders. "No matter how many walls you build, we're all floating on the same ship," he commented as he gently closed the door.

Hook took that moment to throw the ivory comb directly at his wooden door, causing it to stick like a dagger. "Pan…"

* * *

 

_"Following the leader, the leader, the leader…"_

As Wendy listened to the lost boys it honestly felt like she was seeing a play for the second or third time. She knew the chorus, she could practically recite the lines. How on Earth could the Captain live in a world like this? It was no wonder that he was a little off balance when it came to children. Their whining, repetitive singing, and impulsive actions were nearly causing her to pull out her hair. Everyone wants to return to youth, that is, until it's actually possible. That's the thing with nostalgia. It's so attractive because it's so unobtainable. If you went back then you would see what exactly you were capable off, what you found fun, and you'd roll your eyes and agree that growing up is for the better. Wait a minute, did I just think that?

Wendy halted on a tree platform after swinging from a jungle vine. The lost boys tumbled onto the platform after her, as she was in the lead.

"Oof!"

"Augh!"

"Hey! Wassmatter with you?!"

Wendy couldn't deny the smirk that crept up her face. She wiped it off with her hand. "Hm? Oh, why we've reached the shoreline. Look, you can see the blue waters from here." She stood observing the coast, the warm wind whipping at the begonia in her hair. Peter had asked her to don some furs- she quietly told him she would feel more like a lost girl with a simple flower. He had plucked the pale bud for her and she complied, if only to dissuade him from digging further. Once again she could see the Jolly Roger floating like a toy in a tub. The vision of her and Hook on the hill was hard to keep from mind. How had she come so far, and yet gone nowhere?

"There's 'is ship!" The fox boy pointed.

"Yes. But isn't it always there?" Wendy raised a brow, "How about we try something new today?"

"New?" Squirrel boy nervously held on to his tail.

"Have you ever built a sand castle?"

"That's baby stuff!" Fox boy shouted, "We ought to be fighting by now."

"Oh, come now, it'll be fun!" She put her hand on his cheek as if she were a nanny.

The boy's mouth moved in confusion at the kind touch, other boys exchanged glances. "Let's build a model of Hook and knock him down!" The twins said in unison.

"Yeah!" the other boys echoed, scurrying down the tree.

At least Peter was distracted. Tiger Lily needed him on the tribe's side to fight the natives for land. Wendy didn't know if that meant people or creatures- somehow she didn't care. She was glad that he and Tinkerbell were gone. The fairy had been rather in a huff about the flower in her hair.

"Are you sure you don't want to join me?" Peter grasped Wendy's hand in his. She could see the pixie turn red from the corner of her eye.

"No, thank you, Peter." She smiled, "I think I'll play with the boys today."

Pan nodded happily, "I'll be back before nightfall."

As a surprise to her, he kissed her briefly on the cheek. He must have thought it was something mothers and fathers would do before leaving for work. It caused nothing to stir in her stomach as she waved goodbye. Briefly, at the back of her mind, she thought of how he'd neglected to care for the other mothers of the island and a chill rose in her bones.

The boys were busy building up a pile of sand, some digging, some scooping, and some gathering water to hold it all together. The sculpture turned out to be rather good, except for the face. She had to laugh at how silly they had made him look. Villainous could have been the right word. "Good job, Thomas," Wendy patted the child on the back for finding a twig shaped like a hook as a finishing touch.

The boys again looked to one another. "You can't call me that," he shook his head, "I'm a squirrel. Squirrels don't have names."

"But you do, don't you?" Wendy bent down on her knee, "Didn't your parents give you that name?"

The boy's eyes became watery as his face grew red, "I ain't got none. Not no more."

"Nonsense," Wendy brushed away his tears, "Even if they're gone; even if you never saw them or can't remember what they look like, they left you with that at least. Your name is evidence that they'll always be a part of you. That they loved you."

Thomas looked up at her in a sad, imploring way. She gave him a hug as she kissed the brunette hair under his squirrel-eared cap.

"My name," she smiled, "Is not Wendy bird. In fact, it's Wendy Moira Angela-"

" _Darling_." Hook's smooth voice peaked out from the dense foliage. They must have approached by row boat from further up the island- a surprise attack. His crew must have been lagging behind as she heard them shuffling in the brush.

"Yes, Captain," her heart fluttered as she examined the flicker of relief in his eyes, "you say it well."

The way the squirrel boy clung more tightly to her bosom did not go unnoticed. "Changing thoughts about your matronly duties?" He twisted his appendage at her in appraisal.

At the sight of the piercing object, Thomas lept down from her arms and into the safety of the forest. She turned her head as he left, noting that the other boys must have made a hasty retreat as well. Did they lack bravery without Peter to guide them?

"Am I a mother or am I a girl?" Wendy quirked her head, "This island and its inhabitants can't seem to decide."

"Which was the flower meant for?" James sneered as the cold steel of his hook grazed her ear, wrenching the petals from their chosen place. Its sharpness had lightly grazed her cheek, drawing beads of blood.

She watched as the petals fell in circular patterns, much like the fruit trees in spring. "Ownership was the only meaning in that blossom," She breathed, "I'm sure you could discern that." Her face was inches from his, "Is that what its removal meant to you as well?"

Hook took a step back and laughed. Was there no way he could wound her? Even if she bled freely- not at his intent- she seemed to exhume a confidence he couldn't quite place.

It was then that he noticed the sand rendition of himself. "Come now, Wendy, you needn't resort to making sculptures when the real thing is before your eyes."

"The boys made that," She grinned, "my, aren't you handsome?"

Hook observed the fangs they had given him for teeth, "Quite," He drawled, snatching her hand at the wrist. "Enough of this child's play," his breath was hot on her ear with an urgent secrecy she couldn't understand, "whose side are you on?"

"My **own** ," she bit back at him indignantly.

"How fierce," Hook lapped at the blood on her cheek, causing her to bring a hand up in cover. "But I'm afraid this roué will only accept a choice. Bring them back to the boat, men!" Hook shouted to the trees.

The men jeered in unison as they each held up a captive.

Wendy relegated her head and fist to his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard her breathe, "Will this cycle ever end?"


	20. Chapter 20

Wendy was not kept in ropes, unlike the lost boys, aboard the row boat back to the ship. She was lucky that they were still children so they didn't suspect her of sabotage. But would Peter suspect her of such?

Hook kept her close to his side at the head of the boat. He looked forward towards the Jolly Roger, while she looked back at the rowing crew and began to speculate on whose names she had heard from within his cabin. "Bucky!" She beamed in recognition at an old man with a tuft of hair on his head. He had but two rabbit-like teeth protruding from over his lower lip.

"P-pardon?" Bucky raised his eyebrows, wondering if the lass were some kind of mind reader. Oh, he shouldn't have had those impure thoughts about her dress! It had just been so long since he'd seen a proper lady…

Hook covered her mouth with his good hand. She noted how the metal rings on his fingers felt cool against her skin. "Be a good girl and keep your mouth shut," he poignantly instructed. She breathed out her nose as he slowly removed his fingers. She sort of wished she had bitten one.

"You take your hands off Wendy!" Fox boy chirped.

"Thank you, Nathan," she smiled kindly at the boy who grinned back.

"Nathan?" Hook looked down into Wendy's grey eyes. They were as enigmatic as the fog they resembled.

"Yes, he does have a name, doesn't he? I bet Bucky has a real name. I bet even you have a name… Hook."

"M'name is Jim!" Bucky gave a gaping smile.

"You do like my hand over your mouth, don't you, Poppet?" Hook's fingers took back their rightful place. She ought to hate it, she knew that she should. But any touch from his large, grown hands felt like an embrace reminding her that she wasn't twelve and never would be again. It was somehow comforting on an island full of children.

The crew was busy tying the lost boys to the mast as Wendy waited her turn. A burly man came up to her, laying a rope across her clavicle gently, then timidly taking it away. Perhaps this one still had manners. She looked him up and down and noticed his clothes, "Tatters, isn't it?" She made an educated guess.

"…Miss knows my name?" Tatters looked around as the rest of the men were busy behind him.

"How do you like it aboard the Jolly Roger? Has the Captain been good to you?"

"He truly is, when he ain't in one of his moods," the man shivered slightly.

Hook took a step away from the wheel to focus on his little bird. "Tatters," he spoke softly as he approached the man, "We can lock this one in my quarters, so long as she doesn't bite. No need to tie her up like the other animals."

"Yessir," Tatters seemed to agree.

"And why should I be treated any differently?"

"You're a lovely young lady! It wouldn't do well to rough you up." Tatters shook his head.

"I request that you do, Tatters. You specifically." She looked over at Hook for his response. The corner of his mouth was twitching. Good, maybe he'd understand that all of this nonsense had consequences.

"Do as the lady desires. Don't go easy on her," Hook turned his back towards her and headed for the helm. He had to teach her that disobedience was not to be tolerated.

Wendy's eyes widened in surprise before she accepted that this was a part of her plan. "Go on Tatters," she gave him a cheeky smile, "I can handle a little rope burn."

All the while that she was being bound she made sure to lock eyes with the captain, showing him her breath with each restraint, saying, this is what you've done. Hook looked back at her from the helm, unabashedly conveying, you deserved it, with his stare. Both were left with a stirring in their core. Tatters wasn't quite sure what to do with her chest, so he wrapped above and below the mounds. The highlight of her curves caused Wendy to blush. The captain and crew had noticed as well. Some of them were drooling as if she were a fresh steak. Bad form. Hook took off his regal coat and draped it over her slight frame. The crew turned from her at his presence.

"Is this what you wanted?" He whispered as he closed the clasp around her neck.

"No," she looked down at the freshly swabbed deck. "And you?"

"Certainly not."

"And yet here we are," Wendy commented.

"Don't start-"

" _Can't you see?_ " She implored him, "If nothing changes, this is where we'll always be! Never moving forward, never gaining perspective, and never seeing a point in anything."

"Neverland is the very name."

"I've grown to hate the word," her mouth formed a frown.

"Aye," Hook nodded, knowing far better than any other. "When Peter comes I'll convince him, with my steel if necessary, to take you to your proper home."

"What?" Wendy breathed.

"My courtesy would be to grant your request. You've said it yourself, you hate it here. You'd rather be strolling through the park in London. Wouldn't you?"

She bit her lip at his reference to her dream. "Yes," she looked up at him and spoke softly, "but you were there."

The statement caught him off-guard. "…Perhaps you should decide on dreams or waking life before he arrives," Hook examined her face before returning to the helm.

That was just it, she didn't know which was which anymore.

* * *

 

Peter had returned from a long day of flying around. He had been scouting for the tribe, informing them of where the enemy was hiding. Tink had returned part way through the day to relax in her nest; stating something about war being boring. It turned out peacefully in the end. One side met another and they came to an agreement. Peter was kind of disappointed at the lack of fun. So, he was eager when he spied the new additions to the captain's ship. When flying over the lagoon he saw the lost boys all clustered around the mast. "Hook!" He said to himself from above, darting downward. He was ready for the fight he'd been itching for all day.

* * *

 

As the hours passed waiting for nightfall, Wendy decided to spend her time wisely and invest in a story. This story would be like none she had told in London, no. In fact, it would be the opposite. Instead of spinning crazy yarns about monsters and pirates and mythical creature, she would tell the lost boys of the daily life of a person in England. The story would be from a boy's perspective. Perhaps if she guessed at the captain's background she could pique his interest in his fatherland as well.

"Nathan, Thomas, Luke, Matthew, Christopher…" she listed the lost boys by their Christian names, "Would you like to hear a story?"

"I would!"

"Me too!"

"Beats sitting here bored."

"All right then," Wendy nodded, "let me tell you of a faraway place. A place where the sun doesn't shine every day."

"That sounds awful."

"Actually, it sounds interesting. Different."

"Yes," she continued, "very different from here…" She built up the story, speaking of cobblestone streets and lamp posts and horse drawn carriages. Then, there was family: younger siblings, older siblings, cousins, guardians, parents, and children. By this time a few men on the crew could be seen repeating their tasks in close proximity to Wendy. They were curious about the home they had left behind. Some of them, perhaps, were missing a special someone. Or something.

"Did the boy have a dog?" Patchy asked while he was sewing a sail, sitting on a nearby barrel.

"Oh my, were you listening to our story?" Wendy spoke coyly.

"No- well- a little bit towards the end," spoke the man with a leather covering his eye. "Had a mutt of my own once. Real good at herding the sheep, that rascal."

"As a matter of fact, he did have a dog," Wendy nodded. "This one was excellent at catching sticks, he would leap high into the air and catch them with a snap!"

Patchy's eye seemed a little misty as he smiled in nostalgia.

"He had a little sister as well, Mary," Wendy glanced over in the captain's direction. His back was to her, looking starboard through his spyglass. "She was cute as a button. Although she was very young and her legs weren't as well developed as her brother's, she tried to run alongside him as he played with the dog. Any time that she tumbled, the boy would pick her up again and they would laugh as the dog licked their faces." She could see Hook's profile now, turning.

"They would like that?" Thomas asked excitedly.

"Sounds strange," Patchy answered as a surprise to Wendy, "but true. Everybody likes to be kissed sometime, don't they?"

"Not me! Kisses are gross, yuck!" shouted Nathan.

"Muah!" Wendy gave him one on the cheek, "Now was that so bad?"

"Yes," he laughed, "Terrible!"

"I'll take his then," Tatters piped up as the crew that were listening began to laugh along with the boys.

"Would the girl be fond of her older brother if he left on a journey? If he never came back?" Hook's voice startled them all. Some looked to the ground in empathy. Others busied themselves as if his statement was a call for silence.

"Always," she spoke with sureness as he turned to face her in full. "Even if she only knew the boy as an annoyance. Because that is the love of a sister." Her heart faltered as she hoped her brothers would recall her fondly.

Hook took a slow breath that coincided with the sound of the sail ripping. Everyone looked up to see Peter Pan with one of the pirate's swords in hand. "On guard you old Cod Fish!" He crowed.

"Peter!" Wendy called, "Peter, we were having a good time. No need to fight!"

"Tied up in ropes? I don't believe you!" He yelled, "That old man must have filled your heads with something silly."

"On the contrary," Hook responded, "Miss Darling here was the only one filling people's heads. With quite enticing visions, too." The pirate knew the young boy would take that as bait.

And he did. The red head dove at the captain, locking blades in ferocity. "Wendy belongs to me!"

Hook raised his brows, "Wendy belongs to herself," he derided, "In fact she would rather get off of this forsaken island and go back to her hum-drum life in London. All. Without. You."

The boy pushed further as his chestnut eyes burned, "She's only saying that because she wants to get away from you!"

"Impossible, dear boy," Hook sneered, "I'm in her very dreams." The sound of iron clashing grew louder.

"Stop!" Wendy cried, " **STOP IT, RIGHT NOW**!" She was amazed at how much like her mother she sounded. Hook must have noticed too for he lowered his sword to stare at the girl in amazement. It was at that moment that Pan sliced him across the chest and kicked him hard into the ocean.

"JAMES!" Wendy screamed.

"James?" Peter turned with a confused expression.

Wendy's face felt hot as the world became a hum around her. She ignored the pins and needles in her legs, stood up and ran for the plank. She was grateful for that range of motion with only her arms being tied to her body. The only thought in her mind was to keep Hook from drowning as she dove into the blue without the fear of doing so herself.

"Miss!" Smee called, "Someone get the row boat!"

"Wendy?" Peter queried as she sped past him off the plank.

She could see the captain's head bobbing above water and strove to dive beside him. She hit the mark, but her hands were held fast, leaving only her feet to tread water. Hook's blood was quickly staining the water a crimson red. She couldn't think right now about the creatures that would attract. "James!" she squealed, "James! Wake up!"

His eyes fluttered open in a daze and he quickly used his hook to cut the ropes that bound her. She felt them drift away as she took a deep breath and locked her arms under his shoulders. "We have to get to shore, you've got to see a doctor."

"Wendy," his pale lips formed a smile, "you're quite the woman."


	21. Chapter 21

Peter perched on the side of the ship, dumbfounded by the way Wendy had her arms wrapped around Hook in the water. The captain was losing consciousness and she appeared to be keeping him afloat. Why not just let him drown? Did she want to keep him to play with? He'd never seen them fighting. What other game could a pirate play that didn't involve ransom and blood shed?

"Peter, cut us lose!" shouted the boys. "Quick, while they're distracted!" they called.

 _What did I just see?_ Peter thought as he flew over, turning more into a walk, as he sawed at the ropes that bound his lost boys to the mast. Why would Wendy jump into the water like that? Sure she had always been brave, but she was only like that when it came to her brothers. And neither of them were named James…

"Is Wendy all right?" squeaked Thomas as soon as he was free.

"Wendy!" Nathan ran over to the side of the boat, "You'd better make it back out alive- to- to finish your story!" He wiped his nose with his arm.

Her little face in the water gave him a meek nod.

"Don't worry lad, I've got 'er!" Smee hollered up to the fox boy with a wave.

"What?" Peter grabbed the fox by the ears, "You're friends with that pirate? He's Hook's first hand- our enemy!" The clouds began to darken above the Jolly Roger.

"You know what, they ain't so bad," Nathan shook him off. "Why? Weren't we only fighting them for fun anyways?"

* * *

 

Tatters was about to pull Wendy out of the water when she placed Hook ahead of herself, "He's barely conscious, you can skip the chivalry." She continued to kick her tired feet, "No one will fault you for it." She knew that the water was only worsening the captain's wound and leaving him vulnerable to creatures. The burly man nodded as he pulled the captain into the boat with one mighty tug. As Wendy's ears dipped under the water in the aftermath of his movement, she could hear laughter beneath the waves.

**Mermaids.**

Her hands grasped the side of the boat with a tremor. Oh, excellent work, Wendy. Where has all your fool-hardy bravery gotten you now? Dangling like chum in the water. You really ought to work on that impulse problem. That's what got you to this island in the first place! She looked back over her shoulder as she saw Hook's red cloak, once around her neck, yanked beneath the waves. That was only a few meters from where she swam. What could she do? If she leapt into the boat she risked turning it over. Then they would have all been at risk.

"Are you men daft?" The captain croaked, "Get her out of the sea. Now."

Wendy gratefully grabbed hold of Bucky's forearm. Just then, she could feel a hand wrap around her ankle. She gave a shrill scream.

"Wendy!" Thomas yelled from above.

Bucky was losing his grip on her slippery arms just as another set of fingers folded themselves around her foot. " _Mermaids!_ " she swallowed water, coughing, "At least two of them!"

"Bucky, Tatters- heave!" Smee directed as the boat began to rock. "Put yer backs into it!" Wendy continued to sputter.

"Must I do everything myself?" Hook groused as he propped himself up against the side of the boat. His hand reached into Bucky's holster, firing his pistol deep into the waves, causing the fish to scatter. The captain began to slump just before Wendy was safely inside. Cheers could be heard from the lost boys above. She gave them a shaky smile as she held onto Hook's hand, as cold as the metal rings upon it.

* * *

 

The crew hoisted the row boat up the side and helped their members off one by one. The captain was the first one off, placed upon a waiting stretcher. Although he was putting up a strong front, Wendy knew the cut must have been deep. It was frightful to look at.

"Hook," Thomas approached as he took off his squirrel ears, "Thank you for saving Wendy."

The captain looked at the boy in muted confusion, "I didn't do it for you," he stated before his heavy lids closed. For the first time the childish laughter did not bring pain to his ears.

* * *

 

"Aren't you going to say thank you?" Thomas asked Peter after he had sprinkled the lost boys with a satchel of fairy dust.

"Why should I? That cod fish was the one that got her into the water in the first place."

"Peter shouldn't say thank you if he doesn't mean it," Wendy instructed as she wrapped a towel wrapped around her shoulders. Her white gown was now stained with the captain's blood and clung heavily with water.

"Come on Wendy, let's get you into some warm furs," Peter motioned as he moved towards her.

"Actually, I have clothes below deck."

"You're staying here?" Pan's jaw dropped.

"He needs someone to look after him," Wendy glanced over at the unconscious pirate as Smee applied generous pressure to his gash.

"So do they," Peter stomped his foot as he pointed to the lost boys.

"None of them are bleeding," her eyes narrowed.

"Should I make it so?" Peter took out his dagger.

"Don't be absurd," she tutted, "I know very well you don't mean that."

"What will it take then, Wendy?" Peter's hazel eyes were intent on hers.

"This isn't about sides if that's what you think," she sighed, "why can't it be perfectly normal to be friends with everybody?"

"They're grown-ups!" He exclaimed as if that made his argument clear.

"And what am I?" She gestured to herself, "I'm certainly not a child. If you weren't flying all of the time, you would see how much our heights differ since I was last here at the age of twelve."

"You're…" He looked her up and down, "You."

"And they are what they are. Let them be, at least for tonight."

Peter to a moment to analyze the thought. "I'm starting to think you like being a pirate," he peered into her face.

"I'm starting to think you're jealous," she looked him straight in the eye.

"Jealous?!" He leapt up into the air, " _Hah!_ Over someone dried up, wrinkly, old, alone, and done for?"

"Maybe you're upset because he doesn't seem to be alone and done for. Does he?"

Peter surveyed the members of the crew running to get water, fresh linens and generally caring for the man on the cot. He felt heat like iron pooling in his veins, "I'd never be jealous of _him_. **Never**." He looked at Wendy and refused to glance in the captain's direction again.


	22. Chapter 22

The world was obscure. Had it ever been so dark? It was cold like the drafts of his childhood home in the middle of winter. The way that the sea air bit into him could never be forgotten no matter how many years spent in tropic locale. He had to get away from that blackness so deep it swallowed his soul. And yet, time and time again, it called to him. It spoke in his mother's speech, his father's forgotten voice, his sister's words unformed… They comforted him with nonexistence. But that comfort was wrought with fear and turmoil. What was his point in dredging on for centuries after all? What service had he paid to his loved ones long since lost? He'd neglected to carry on the family name; forging a persona along with the hook on his stump. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting. He didn't know whether he was a man or a child himself, even in the face of perpetual youth. Yes, he was no old man, but he was tired. More tired than he had felt in a hundred years. Like an old stone fortress eroded by decades of perpetual rain, he wondered when it was time to fall. If that time of sweet comeuppance would ever come. The maelstrom was coming down now. Good. He welcomed it. And yet the rain was warm; hitting him in soft, almost intangible droplets. It was not the usual tropical storm, but the faded memory of an April shower somewhere faraway. The sky was a patchy bluish grey. The color was life, of purpose anew.

"Wendy," he rasped, "quit crying on me."

"James!" She wrapped her arms around his head for he was in her lap, "Are you all right?"

"The throbbing pain in my chest says no… but my placement has me thinking otherwise."

"Oh, you-!" she stood up, letting his head fall onto the familiar velour fabric of his bed.

"Ah!" He winced as he felt the lightning from his bottom rib to his opposite clavicle. He cursed- not out of pain as much as the fact that he would have another scar courtesy of the flying boy. Another unwanted tattoo that would follow his carcass to the grave.

"I'm sorry," she placed a hand on her lips in fear.

"It's not your fault," he'd meant to add the characteristic 'love' to the end of that sentence, but his tongue kept the dangerous word from creeping out of his mouth. Shit. What was she doing here? If she'd stayed in England maybe himself or the boy would be dead by now. The idea used to be so much more attractive.

"How are you feeling?" She approached cautiously, "I'm no nurse, but I stitched it up the best I could. I was always rather good at sewing."

Hook looked down at the fine webbing across his chest, "So I'm to be a pillow now?"

"Of course not!" She puffed and looked down at her folded fingers, "It was all I could do to stop the bleeding. It'll have to be taken out in a week or so." She looked at him determinedly, "I fired the needle and cleaned you up the best I could to avoid infection."

He couldn't deny that he felt a strange ownership as he observed the pattern of her thread. At least the scar wouldn't yield memories solely of the brat that had sliced him before. He didn't know how to feel, although he surely wouldn't describe himself as happy. When had the girl become as brave as to drive a piece of steel into another's flesh? Did her stomach turn at the sight of his sinew? ...Did she witness his unconscious screams? "Thank you," he swallowed against his dry throat.

"You must be thirsty," she attended, "I'll fetch you some water."

He noted that her once white gown was now a speckled with muddied crimson, his own brand. As she came back she brought the chalice to his lips. He would have grabbed it himself in a better state, but he drank from her given hand freely. "Wendy Darling," he spoke as he finished, "How is it that I'm always finding you in need of new attire?"

"Hm?" she looked down her front, "Oh!" she noted, "Well I wasn't going to change until I was sure you were all right. As it stands, the ship is headed for a real doctor on Erstwhile."

"Did you chart a course?" He stood both impressed and wary of her independent nature.

"Smee suggested it."

He could practically taste the lie on her lips. "Nonsense. After all, I cauterized myself after Pan took my limb. I'm quite suited for survival."

Her mouth opened and shut with no words to be found. There was a mute horror and understanding on her face. Then, "Well, you'll strive for better than survival under my watch."

"Better?" He laughed as he closed his eyes and remembered the steady rains of England. After winter, mustn't it become spring? The shifting of fabric caused him to open his eyes. A peek at the back of her neck and barren shoulders came into view. Was the girl sculpted of milk and honey? "Wendy-" his blood felt painful in his veins. At such a depleted level he was feeling feint. "You should know I don't fall sleep that easily."

"I'm sorry," she looked over her shoulder, "but you desired me to change. And I really would like to get out of these clothes. If it bothers you, I could go behind the screen."

He took a shaky breath, cursing his condition for abandoning composure. "It's quite all right," he breathed out through his nose.

She smiled, a wonderful, truthful smile- the kind of smile a woman ought to show a man. Had he ever seen such a pure smile? It almost made him want to look away. But she kept her back to him, still affording herself that privacy. And if she wasn't looking at him, well, he sure wouldn't mind observing her. He watched as her hands moved deftly over the buttons at the front of her, causing her elbows to move down in a slow arch. As she finished, she began to peel the fabric from her shoulders. There were no marks on her body, sans for the scratch he had left on her cheek as he had carelessly removed the flower tucked in her hair. He vowed to himself to never mar her again, visibly in the least. Her shoulder blades moved as she peeled the fabric and his eyes followed downward on the curve of her spine, spying freckles like a constellation at the base of her. Her waist, he hadn't gotten a look at it earlier, when was a waist ever so narrow? He could wrap an arm around her. He would, willingly. This waist only served to accent her wide hips and pert bottom. They were always hidden beneath a shapeless dress. She still had her knickers on as she stepped out of the gown. The view of her bending over had him turning his eyes to the ceiling as her mounds came forward. But the pirate in him won out as he heard the continued shuffling. The view of her hands trailing over her naked backside was enough to send him back into oblivion.

There was a song in his dreams, nostalgic of a land he'd forgotten. It was a melody soft and sweet. An open palm brushed back the hair at his crown as it had when he'd been good in youth. Again it pushed backward as he pushed against the current of unconsciousness. Hook weakly opened his eyes. Wendy… he saw, Wendy was humming as she read a book and lay on her belly beside him. She was smoothing his hair back with each verse of her tune. He didn't expect the water in his eyes as he smiled. It had been so long since he'd felt at home.

She could feel his eyes upon her, "I didn't mean to wake you," she took her hand away.

"Don't…" he spoke as she looked at him with confusion, "You don't have to stop," he took a breath.

She gave him a smile again as she continued smoothing his hair. Yet, she was done with her song. Her eyes were adamant on the page.

"What adventures is our hero taking part in?" James tried to roll on his side but failed.

"You should stay on your back," Wendy cooed as she brought herself up to steady him, "we should be there by morning."

"I'm not one of your brothers you know," Hook harrumphed.

Wendy was silent a moment before she smiled, "I know." Her eyes softly observed his as she leaned forward. She heard his breath hitch before she gave him a gentle kiss.

Tis a powerful thing. He looked up at her, aching to ravish her, but his body denied him. Perhaps that was why she felt safe enough to do so.

"That is your deserved thimble. Thank you for always keeping me safe in the water, Captain. I had hoped the first I'd given you would have been when you were conscious or sober, but…"

"Conscious?" Hook queried, "Wendy Darling, have you been taking advantage of a sick man?"

"It was… before," she blushed as she returned to her book.

"Oh ho, my dear Wendy, you can't leave me a man without the details of his own kiss."

"Well," she took a breath, "after I had combed your hair you looked so peaceful when you were sleeping. And I would say handsome, but I'm sure you've already heard…"

"You're beautiful."

She stared at him blankly as her bottom lip dropped.

"As you can see," he ran his thumb over the scratch on her face, "you yourself may have heard it, but it never grows stale."

"No," she blushed as she tried to turn back to her novel, "in fact, it feels rather new."

"It does, doesn't it?" he mused as he observed her with a smile, "No matter how many times, it always feels new."

The two of them exchanged a long glance before Hook broke the silence, knowing that in his current state he could press no further, "The same could be said of a story. Will you read for me, Wendy?"

She smiled, "I shall tell you a story, my most handsome Captain." They shared a grin. "It begins once upon a time…"


	23. Chapter 23

 

She had such fitful dreams- Mrs. Moore's son holding her possessively as a gaudy ring closed tightly around her finger. She could barely close her fist against the weight of it. Wendy couldn't even recall the wedding. When she held her head and asked about the affair, the crowd gave a trill laugh in response. Pompous people with their hair tied back tightly, clothes binding them even tighter. People she had never seen before, but the dream had told her that they would be her new friends, her only friends in this world. And terrible friends they would be, always siding with her husband since she was no longer an individual. Or even a person, really. She was to be submissive and demure. She was to remain silent in word and on paper, not an utterance of fantasy, only polite discourse on what was founded. She needed to go out to walk in the park, she needed air, but he wouldn't let her. His eyes watched her from her mirror as she combed her hair. She was a bird in a cage, his most prized possession. And she knew it was not just her that would be. He would use her, strike her, force her, and commit his carnal right against her body to create an heir just as cruel as he. Her mother said she would find true love with her children, but every time she looked at her son's pale chubby face she wanted to throw herself into the sea. She hated herself. She hated everything. Everything but the cliffs, the sea, so high looking out onto the horizon. But that ship never came. She took the carriage, leaving her son in the nanny's care without as much as a kiss to his awful red hair- every bit the stamp of Mr. Moore. She took the carriage to where the choppy blue and misty grey met in a never-ending parallel; the way she wished she could meet those fierce forget-me-nots. Without much ado she lept, a bird in flight, falling, _falling_ …

Wendy woke with a start, the dreadful feeling still washing over her as if it were reality. Even with the sway of the ship, she searched for the insufferable eyes of her husband. Her gaze traveled to the empty bed. "James!" She cried.

His ink black mane came around the corner, his arm feeling the wall for support. The man must have been in need of the loo after the wine he'd taken to ease the pain. Wendy rushed up, wrapping her arms around his bandaged front. Their visit to the doctor had gone well. He applauded Wendy and gave her some disinfectant cream to apply nightly. They would spend a week docked at port to recuperate without danger of Pan. At that time, her loving stitches would need to be removed.

"Careful Wendy, or you'll make me think you're fond of this old pirate." He spoke weakly.

She felt the heat of his flesh against her cheek, bringing herself back to the reality she had chosen. Each could have been a dream in the other- which made them both seem so certain. She took a depth breath through her nose, realizing the scent of his skin and brusque feel of the hairs on his chest had calmed her. The way his chin just met the crown of her head. Oh, she was becoming a terrible pervert. She wished there were a priest on board to confess her sin. Then again, this was a land without religion; sans rules or mercy. She would do well to remember that.

"You shouldn't be up and walking around, I left you a chamber pot by your bed," She placed her arm under his for support.

"Forgive me but my decency does not permit its use."

"Well then, maybe I should sleep with the crew!"

"Heavens no," he imagined much more than sleep, "I've got to keep you all to myself." Hook slowly sat on the bed.

Wendy flushed, "My Captain lies prettily. I know I'm here because you care for my safety."

"Perhaps I'm not altruistic as all that." He smiled up at her as she swore she felt her heart swell.

"You seem to be feeling better."

"I've got reason, haven't I?"

"You've got all the reason to be feeling the opposite!"

"Your bedside manor if extraordinary," he chuckled as he closed his eyes, "if I listened to your negativity I'd be half dead already." One eye opened, "Or was there a reason you were clutching to me so tightly?"

"I don't want to-" Leave you? Lose you? "go back to my old life. Do you think," she looked up from her tangled fingers, "you could find a place for me here? I could do laundry, or I could cook or…"

"Oh, I have a fitting place for you," his lips curled in satisfaction as he patted the place beside him, "Red Handed Jill." He spoke as she stepped closer, "Though we should find a more suited moniker. One befitting of your true nature." As he lay down, she sat beside him. He opened his good arm. "I'm no stranger to nightmares if you wish to cling to me some more." In truth he was joking and did not expect it, but it felt pleasant when she buried her free curls in the crook of his neck. The sea air had really enhanced their wild nature. Two lions they would be, in another life.

"You're my home now," She whispered as his throat hitched. "I've given up what I had willingly. My brothers, my mother, my father, England… But I would have given them anyway when I became his wife. I know him, Mr. Moore, he would have taken me where horses couldn't reach. Where no one's eyes would be laid upon me except his own."

"Can't say I blame the man," Hook hummed.

She pried her head loose as she sat up, "Don't tell me you're the sort to-"

"Be at ease, Wendy," His fingers touched the bottom of her curl, "a pirate simply doesn't want his treasure stolen."

"You'll poison me with words so sweet."

"The Sweet Death," His hand brushed her cheek, "a name befitting."

His fingers drew her toward him into a lasting kiss.

"Pirates don't get married, do they?" She parted.

He laughed, "No. They're not the sort."

"What do they do instead?"

"What an answer to pen," he took a breath, "why, they do everything a married couple would wish to do."

"Are they monogamous?"

"Not often, no."

"Oh." She sat up, brushing a curl behind her ear.

"Does something about that statement worry you, love?"

"I haven't the slightest idea why it should."

"And yet?"

"And yet, I shall have to follow the methods of piracy, shan't I?"

She had turned his trickery on him, "You little minx."


	24. Chapter 24

The sun lazily climbed above the horizon as Wendy sat in front of the large bay window of her Captain's quarters, scribbling words onto paper as the waves lapped against the ship. It was their third day in Erstwhile and she had begun keeping a diary to track her eternity. She wrote to her mother, her brothers, her father, to Nana.

> _How old are you now, my beautiful blonde little brother? Has your hair grown brown? Have you become a man in these days when I'm barely grasping what it means to be a woman? Has father shown you how to be proper? …Do you want to be proper? I have no role model here to follow, sans the women on the streets and the spiteful fairy. I suppose I'll become the model I'm wont to see. At least I have Jane Austen to keep me company._

Is this how James grew into Neverland? When I look at the ostentatious outfits and outlandish fanfare, I wonder whom he modeled himself after. Truly, I think he came up with the persona himself. A strong force of unshakable bravado to be reckoned with. I would ask who shaped Peter, but he is still very much the child he always was. And isn't that the mark of a child, being the very same as you have been since birth. Seeing the world through selfish eyes. How indeed was he born? Sometimes I think he was formed by the island itself, like the lava that flows off in the distance… Did he ever have love? Is he seeking it from the Lost Boys? At least James had the constant comradery of fatherly Smee.

It is such a one sided island, men existing in the absence of women. All of us appear to be children despite our ages. And this lop-sided nature makes everyone search for a mother. Or is it a lover? It seems that they are seeking a puzzle piece they've only just noticed to be missing. I can feel it when James looks at me. His eyes seek me desperately for understanding. There's a burning want that I've never known before. And there is fear. There are so many emotions in those eyes I can't possibly name them all, they're as vast as the sea we sail upon. Peter's eyes- on the other hand- they do not seek, they know. They know that I am his plaything, his object. But if he learned that his knowledge is false, would the world fall apart? Has anyone aside from Hook ever told him 'No'? I fear it would make an enemy of me if I did. Or truly, would it make a mother of me?

Wendy looked up from her paper as she imagined what that would make Hook. She blushed as she saw the forget-me-not eyes steady on her own. A wide, comfortable smile grew on his face. It made her heart flutter. She wanted to touch his strong neck, the bandaged chest that peeked out from his velvet coverlet. She wanted to seek what was under it…

"Is there something you want, Wendy Darling?" James propped himself on one shoulder as the inky curls rolled down the expanse of his back.

"No," she blushed. "No, it would be improper of me to ask."

"I assure you, your propriety is safe with me," his smile quirked, "you may find you can receive anything if asked politely."

She bit her lip, "I'd like you to show me what it means to be a woman."

The captain swallowed deeply. "I'm afraid there are many avenues to that question. Which one is it that you're after?"

"How is it that a woman… should behave with a man?"

Hook sat up and motioned for her to join him, he left his arms open and she settled easily into the space between them, her back against his chest.

"A woman, just like a man, must follow her heart," He spoke as his rough fingers brushed the locks over her shoulder. He slowly, gently, planted a kiss at the base of her neck. His mouth by her ear, "What is your heart telling you to do?"

She turned her neck to observe his face, her eyes were steady on the texture of his full lips. She glanced up at him, "I want to kiss you."

He looked into her eyes as he leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss. "Does that serve?"

She could still feel the warmth emanating from her body, like a fire that only his hands would smother.

"More," she whispered as she placed her hands on his high cheekbones, bringing him in roughly against her face. She could feel him smile against her before her tongue sought his out and they were soon out of breath. "Impropriety is more befitting of pirate nature," she gleamed.

"I suppose you're right," he brought a hand to his lips in contemplation. "But one should always have some sort of decorum or we'd be no better than a pit of Lost Boys. Have I sated your thirst?"

She shook her head slowly.

"What will you have me do?"

"What would you have done with me if I was the woman you were seeking at port?"

"Wendy…" the captain brushed a free lock behind her ear. "I assure you it would be nothing like what I would do with you."

"Why not?"

"Why?" Hook took a moment as he pressed his back against the headboard, "why indeed."

"You have no answer?"

"I have one, yes. But the time's not right," he brought a hand up to the gauze at his chest. "When I'm properly healed perhaps..."

"Are you afraid?" She teased.

"Mayhaps I am." He looked at her genuinely, "To be a woman is a terrifying thing, Wendy. Are you certain you want to grow up?"

"Not even Neverland can stop me," She grinned.

"You've proven that right," he laughed. "In fact, I'd say the island worked backwards on you. How you've grown."

"Are you referring to my chest?"

Hook coughed, "I was not, no. Yet if you're bringing attention to the subject- you've filled out rather nicely."

"Why is it that men are so concerned about that?"

"Oh, isn't it nice to have something that men want? You have no idea of the power you possess. Would you like me to show you, my curious cat?"

She nodded.

"I promise not to lay a finger on you until I'm healed, but I see no reason why you can't lay one on yourself." He smiled, "Tell me, Wendy, have you ever done that?"

"No, it sounds rather crude."

He laughed, "Such a notion is perpetuated by ignorance. Have you ever done something naughty because you liked it?"

"I've… read books I shouldn't have."

"And didn't that make it all the better?"

"Perhaps," she blushed.

"Would you do it again?"

"Often."

"Often, she says," Hook leered to himself. "You'll be like a fish to water."

"You make it sound as if you hold a secret."

"Indeed I do, Wendy. I hold a secret door you can never close again." He took her hand, "You've been knocking day and night without your wrist ever moving. It's getting awfully tempting not to take you inside and throw away the key." He looked at her innocently, "But you must be the one to turn the latch. And that, in truth, is part of the fun."


	25. Chapter 25

Wendy waded in the soft waves by the pier just after sunrise. The water was never angry like it was when it whipped England's craggy shores. Just like the people here, it had somehow learned to move at a slower pace. A black, speckled crab peeked out at her from behind a rock and shyly returned to its hiding place at the advent of her smile. Her feet took her further. Everything was illuminated in the daylight; silver fish lazily basking in the shallows, colorful stripes ducking in and out of the coral that dotted the jetty. She could not have seen the detail of these clear waters during her night with James. It seemed so long ago now. The sea was a pit of darkness whose contents lived entirely in her imagination, and hers was fierce. All of these talks with her captain were like making it more so, like tinder to a growing fire. Words of hidden doors and holding keys had her waking drenched in sweat and… something else. Something that settled in her stomach and between her thighs. Something that lingered as her captain's knowing eyes watched her waking moments.

"Did you sleep well?" The nearly-recovered man inquired from his desk. He wore spectacles when reading charts? Why, she hadn't noticed before. The sight reminded her of their shared heritage. How would James would look in a proper English suit? Suspenders, a tie, and a pressed white shirt… Now, why did that excite her?

"Yes," she bit her lip chasing the unnameable feeling that met her in sleep, it was all growing foggy now. "I think so."

"Did you have any dreams?"

"I can't recall," her heart sped in her ears.

"No nightmares?"

"No..." She swallowed against her dry throat, "Why do you ask?"

He took off his glasses for a moment, "You called for me." His eyes were a faint rain dancing upon her. She shivered.

"I'm," She sat up as she brushed a hand over her hair, it must have been a rat's nest by now, "I'm fine." Her suddenly self-conscious feet were on the floor as she burrowed through her chest for a summer dress to greet the day.

"Are you, Wendy Darling?" A smile played at his lips.

The gesture served to make her more indignant, "I'm going ashore." She changed swiftly behind the folding door.

"Will you require an escort?"

"No!" She breathed, "No. I just need some air."

"All right then," he gave a mock sigh as he returned to work, "I know when I'm not wanted…"

The sound of his voice burned the tips of her ears. He knew.

And now, here she was, playing in the waves as if the world could be the same again. Certainly months if not years had passed in her absence at home. In Neverland, it was as if her memories were foggy, perhaps due to the difference in time. Outside of the island's influence she could recall more clearly, more painfully. But she found that she didn't want to- because everything was bound to be different. And even if the world remained miraculously unchanged, she couldn't say the same for herself. She came to this land in search of a boy, and strange enough, she found a man. A man whom she couldn't deny had occupied her thoughts since her first journey to Neverland.

She fought the current as she returned to shore. The pull on her legs reminded her of his sway. What purpose did she have now to deny him? He hadn't been wicked or cruel- quite the opposite really. His pirate ways were nothing compared to the possessive man, the stifling future life, she had run from. Hook had promised not to trap her. In fact, he had protected her virtue and saved her very life. The Hook from her childhood had transformed into something more; a man she wanted to get to know more of, a man named James. If her ambitions were based on freedom of choice- of love- then this one was hers. It was all hers. She turned one last time towards the sea. She hoped the world would look just as beautiful once she opened that door he spoke of.

The heavy cabin door swung open with enthusiasm. The commotion caused Hook to lean back in his leather chair. "My Darling girl," He raised an eyebrow, "Is something the matter?"

"I lied," she smiled.

"Did you?" he warily observed the eager woman.

"I dreamt of you," she inhaled. "Intimately."

For the first time he felt something akin to nervous. He swallowed, "Are you in a sharing mood?"

"Your lips were on me," she strode toward him, "not only your lips."

"What else?" He stood slowly from his desk.

"Your hands were everywhere."

"Go on," his voice was rough.

"Your body was pressed against me and I felt like I'd fly away if you weren't holding me down."

Hook tangled his hand in her curls as he kissed her deeply. "Wendy Darling, you're knocking dreadfully hard."

"May I come in?" She smiled up at him timidly.

"Dear _God_ , I never thought you'd ask," He picked her up swiftly and she couldn't help but feel giddy at his eagerness. He laid her on the bed. "I'll be gentle, Wendy. It will be difficult not to ravish you, but I want to extract every second out of this that I can," He encouraged as he unscrewed the hook from the post at his arm.

"Let me help," he paused to look at her. "Please."

He gave a nod as she crawled over on her knees to undo the leather straps that bound him.

"You're… You're hard." Wendy marveled at the sight of him straining against his breeches. Her mother had told her nothing about the act of love, only that a man and woman had certain appendages in order to make babies. Wendy had a feeling that's not all they were for.

"And you're the one that did it," he observed her gaze. "Touch me," he directed.

Her dainty fingers wrapped around the length of him through his pants. James inhaled as his hips instinctively moved towards her retreating hand.

"May I… see it?"

He barked a laugh. "You can see all of me," he spoke as he kicked off his boots and crawled on the coverlet with her. "Quid pro quo, only if I can see all of you."

"That seems fair," she blushed as she traced the buttons on the front of her dress.

"If you'll allow me," James offered as his hand slid from her chin to her clavicle. All she could do was nod. For a man with one hand, he was surprisingly nimble. He had her in her slip within minutes. "Will you afford me the same pleasure?"

His body was suddenly imposing, like a tower. Her hands were clumsy with nerves as she struggled with clasps. "I'll guide you," his voice was soothing in her ear and she felt her heart leave her throat. His chest was soon bare before her again. She noted the healing scar with her stitch work removed, close to the pirate's heart. There was that trail of curls again, only now she knew where it ended. His member was oddly beautiful for something she had never seen before. The length and girth of it had her salivating for some reason, and not only from her mouth. There was a strange slickness between her thighs. "Now you," he urged her. She swiftly lifted the satin over her head and tugged off her bloomers.

"Wendy…"

She noted the marvel in his voice and felt her blush renew. "What do we do now?"

"What is your body telling you?"

"I'd like to touch you again. Will you touch me too?"

"Everywhere."

She gently wrapped her hands around the length of him, how warm and soft and hard! How could such a combination of things come to be?

His fingers lightly traced her nipples and the feeling from her dream was coming back to her. Her voice sounded much too strange for her ears, though he seemed to like it. She lost all focus when his lips circled her other areola and began to suck. She laid down with a dizzy haze as his lips freely roamed her body. She came back to herself as his hand was at her thigh. His face was much too close to her woman's place. "What are you doing?"

"You'll like it," He smiled up at her, "I promise."

"Like what?"

"Do you like when I kiss you, Wendy?" He playfully tilted his head.

"Yes," she flushed.

He pressed his lips gently to her juncture, "How about here?"

"Oh!" She moaned, "That's indecent!"

"Well, we aren't here to be decent, now are we?" He smirked. "Tell me you like it and I'll do it again."

"I… I do."

His mouth was on her over and over and she couldn't help but cry out and grasp at the bed. His tongue was exploring places not even her hands had dared to go and she would surely die from the shame of it all! But at least if she was going to die, she would know what heaven was. She was chasing something she wasn't sure of, a sensation that caused her leg to twitch.

"Wendy," he rose, "I can't stand it any longer, touch me." He guided her hand towards his cock.

"Oh!" She squealed as his hand over hers showed her how roughly she should grasp it, moving swiftly along its length. She was about to ask if it would hurt him when she looked up to see the blissful lust in his eyes. Her core melted, "I want you." Escaped her swollen lips.

"Tell me what you want, Wendy," his fist continued pumping around hers, now at a slower pace.

"I want you," she suddenly felt shy, "inside of me."

"I couldn't quite hear you, love," he toyed.

"James Hook, I want you inside of me right now!" she nearly shouted.

His back grew straight; no woman had called his given name in years. He wondered if he loved her then as he admired her in that moment. He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly, "That's my Darling girl," he spoke against her lips. "As you command." He kissed her again. He stalled at her entrance, "You will tell me if it hurts, won't you?"

"You could never hurt me, James," she smiled up at him and pressed her lips to his as he slowly followed suit and pushed inside of her.

"Ah!" She looked down as he disappeared into her. There was a slight twinge and a feeling of absolute fullness. It was unlike anything she had experienced before. "I'm going to move now," his breathy voice was by her ear. She nodded. His hand continued with her chest as he slowly moved in and out, his eyes locked on hers. They were so beautiful, the way their blue became darkened and hungry as they sought her out. "Does it feel good?" He placed a kiss on her chest. "Yes," she breathed.

"I want it to be so good you can't find the words, I want to be the very air you breathe," he smiled. "Will you ride me?" She grew confused for a moment, "just like one of your thoroughbred horses," he encouraged and she nodded. She did have riding lessons when she was younger, how had he known? Was she raised to be that much of a lady?

Sitting on top of him gave her a lovely view of everything that was her captain, from his black curls splayed across the pillow, to the sparse hair on his chest, to the thin sword-made scars, to the narrow dips that directed towards his member. His sea eyes sought her out as well, to put her curves to memory. He sat up to cup the marvel that was her breasts. "Ride me, Wendy," he whispered in her ear before he nibbled at her lobe and down her neck. She tried to remember her lessons, front, back, forward, up, down, and she realized it had worked surprisingly well. That feeling was growing inside of her again. "Don't stop," he instructed and her hips had no choice but to follow. Each time she ground down on him she could feel it growing inside her, like a balloon about to pop. And oh, it was the most magnificent explosion. Her voice was the strangest it had ever been as she cried out against James' shoulder, her body desperately seeking to be as close to his as possible. He held her fast and peppered kisses as he quickened his movements within her, "Wendy," he kissed her hair, "Wendy…" and suddenly he was outside of her, spilling himself onto her stomach, she blinked as the thick ropes covered her and pooled on her belly. Perhaps even better than what she had felt was viewing the captain's strained face of unequivocal abandon. His hand stopped pumping after several moments and she wondered how that would have felt inside of her.

"My apologies," He whispered as he kissed her forehead, "you don't know what you do to me, Wendy Darling." He whispered into her hair as he used the linens to wipe his seed from her skin. He laid down beside her and she snuggled up against him. He was hesitant, "Do you like what's on the other side of the door?"

"I shall keep it open at all times," she cooed.

"Careful, Wendy," Hook cajoled, "or you'll attract dangerous men."

 

* * *

 

 

 

"I don't understand," Peter rolled over on his furs. "I've been everywhere in Neverland and there's no Hook… No Wendy. It's been forever! AUGH!"

Tinkerbell flew happily to his shoulder, petting his auburn hair in assurance. Oh, if only it could be like this forever. Maybe it would!

"Peter?" The fox boy approached his bed. "Can we play pirates on the beach today? Tim's got a pretty good accent and-"

"WHAT?!" Pan scoffed, "Pirates? There ain't no pirates here. Hah! Haven't been for weeks. Maybe years even!" He rolled over.

"Exactly," The fox puffed out his chest, "that's why we wanted to pretend. We can use some sticks as swords and have an adventure!"

"That's baby stuff!" Peter grit his teeth.

Tinkerbell glowed with shock. The emotion was mirrored on the fox's face, "Baby stuff?"

"Yeah. That's right! There's no real fight! There's no challenge in that. It's not like you're in any danger, dancing around and poking each other with wood. There's nothing to get your blood pumping. No one to save from actually dying. Why don't you-" Peter's flushed face suddenly grew pale as he retracted to examine his shaking hands. He balled them into fists and hid under his covers.

The twins who were listening behind the door held each other's frightened paws, "Was he going to say?"

The other gulped, "It couldn't be… _Grow up_?"


	26. Chapter 26

He watches her playing in the shallows from the bow of his ship, presumably following some school of fish. A small smile forms on his lips at her youthful grace, her thin white slip flowing against her delicate frame. Blast. He's felt it: A foreign swelling in his heart, a proudness that extends beyond his own ego. As soon as he's felt it, he turns his vision from the rays dancing on her honeyed hair. He lights a cigar and focuses on the embers and smoke on his tongue, drowning out the taste of her. But, oh, her laughs echoing in the waves. Her laughs sound all too similar to the noises she'd made only hours before. He swallows against his dry throat. _What now? What now that he's had her?_ Every time before he'd left them on the shoreline without so much a thought of whether they would miss him. Perhaps they had; but he'd never missed them. Their names and faces long ago escaped on the breeze that guides the sails. But her name, never the gristle of Pan's, had clung like the metallic taste of déjà vu. Now he'd gone and whispered it in litany. _Dear God... What now?_

Hook turned to face his pleasantly plump crew member. "Smee!" He jumped, "you nearly sent me into the drink!" He looked accusingly at the old man's smile. Apparently the girl was contagious. "What are you after?"

"She's a nice young lady, isn't she, Cap'n?" The grey man put the pudge of his face into his palm as he looked out at her dreamily.

"And?" Hook could feel his blood pressure rising, though he couldn't say why.

"Oh, nothing." He tilted his head, "I just hope she finds what she came here for, is all."

"What do you mean by that?" He lifted a charcoal brow.

"Well, y'know she came here to get away from that nasty fellow. Arranged marriage and all."

"Yes, yes." Hook nodded. "Get on with it."

"And she said she were looking for true love instead; an honest ambition."

"Indeed, she said that." Hook puffed his cigar.

"And, isn't it silly, she came here of all places! Anywhere in the world and she came here."

Hook switched the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other in contemplation.

Smee gave a gentle smile, "I just hope she'll find a true love. I think it's something everybody deserves at least once in their lifetime." Hook caught the twinkle in his eye before he returned to swabbing the deck.

"Remind me to accuse you of mutiny," Hook said mostly to himself as he turned his face back towards the sun.

* * *

 

When the captain exited the doors of the saloon, it was darker than he'd hoped outside. Time was hard to get used to after a seemingly endless expanse of sunlight. Perhaps he was less sober than he'd hoped as well, but his first mate's words had stirred something terrible inside of him. Was Wendy expecting more than he could give? Had she come here specifically with thoughts of him in mind, or, perish the thought, was it Pan? Why else indeed had she come here, when there was anywhere else to go? What was it that made her feel safe on an island of petulant boys and deadly snares? …Or was it that she had simply sought for time to stand still, as so many had before her… Yes. That must have been it. Her thoughts of true love demolished or delayed until a time when she felt she could return home again. If the word home applied any longer. He shuttered at the thought. What would the world be like now, outside of their bubble? He imagined it to be ash blowing in the wind; not a soul in sight. A wasteland. That was what happened when men fought with men instead of boys. Could he send Wendy back knowing what horrors might await her? …Could he send Wendy back now that he'd tasted her? _Coward_. The taunting word echoed in his mind. _Perhaps I am._ Aye, _a selfish one too_. Lord knows he couldn't stand to be old, alone and done for. The very thing he feared the most was not some spry little boy, nor some ticking crocodile. It was the thing that stood silently in their shadows; hands wrapped around the throats of those who'd held his hand. His only true fear was death.

* * *

 

The crew was in good spirits below deck, the clinking of metal goblets and peals of rough, drunken laughter seeping up through the floorboards. Then her voice, clear as a bell, rang out among them.

"Wendy…" Hook whispered as he ignored the flight in his stomach, forging onward down the stairs into the galley. Thoughts flooded his mind, Was she drunk? Was she in danger? His stride moved with the beat of his heart. He placed a waiting hand over the pistol as his hook brushed open the ratted curtain. And there he stalled, to see his very own Red Handed Jill with a royal flush on the barrel before her, proudly wearing some sap's pilfered hat.

"Thank you for your business, gentlemen." She coyly smiled as she gathered her coin, rightfully won. His heart was still beating in his ears as he gave a heavy breath through his nose.

"Gee, Miss Wendy, how'd ye get ter be so good?" The crew leaned forward on bended elbow.

"Well, Charles,"

Since when did he have a 'Charles' aboard?

"I had a lot of rainy days in London to play with my… brothers." Her eyes grew melancholy at the mention. A fate he knew all too well.

"Don't be sad, lass," Charles put his calloused hand on Wendy's shoulder, "ye'll always have us."

Of course. How imprudent of him to imagine her only sources of love could truly come from him or his nemesis. He was sure those lost brats were writing her poetry by now.

"What did I tell you about attracting dangerous men, Wendy?" The captain's cool voice pierced the silence better than any gunshot.

"Oh, Captain Hook!" Wendy flushed, her innocent mind surely conjuring all thoughts of the circumstances that led up to that turn of phrase. Good. "I was just playing with the crew- I'm glad you're back."

"Yes, well I'm certain this crew has other things to do besides play." He gave their downcast heads a warning look. Those who couldn't look him in the eye he knew had ill intentions for the girl. He'd have to leave them ashore, preferably marooned sans a single bullet. "Don't you boys? After all, we set sail for Neverland at dawn!" He roused.

"Aye, aye!" Came the uniform cry as the group made themselves busy once more. The mention of returning to the isle put some pep in their step.

"Come along, Wendy," He put out his hand. "And leave that dreadful hat."

 


	27. Chapter 27

"I thought I'd warned you to be wary of dangerous men." The Captain spoke as they started up the stairwell, the rowdy noise swallowed by the doors to the hull of the ship.

"I should say that I was very cautious. I did not partake in the wine. Although I'm most certain that you have," Her eyes were downcast, "you've been gone all day. At least Smee had the decency to tell me you'd went to the pub."

Hook stifled his guilt with anger, "Cautious, you say? Cautious enough to wear another man's cap?" He breathed over his shoulder.

 _Oh._ An awareness welled within her. "Captain are you, perhaps, a jealous man?"

"Jealous?" Hook scoffed; turning to take a golden lock between his fingers on the stair, "You'll find there's not a man alive, Wendy Darling, who can take what is mine."

"You can't be insinuating that I am an object of possession, now, can you dear Captain?" Wendy's eyebrow rose, "Or is it that your claim is uncertain? Is that why you were running today?"

"So help me, Wendy," he pressed himself to her in the alcove beneath the stairs, "I will take my claim right here."

"You wouldn't," She whispered between fear and anticipation.

That flushed look on her face was all it took for fear and anger to be forgotten, his lips drinking her in absolution. "Wendy," he murmured between the open kisses along her throat, "my Wendy-"

"Captain!" she squirmed as he ran his thumb in circles over her pebbled chest. No, she hadn't drank at all, but if she were of any sound mind she would drag him back to their bedroom upstairs. How lewd to be meeting beneath the stairs where anyone could see. And yet, she found she couldn't press him from her- her need was too great, and growing with each ministration of his fingers. She grabbed his face in the darkness, the pale candlelight from above shinning on them through the slats of wooden steps, and imparted a fiery kiss.

"Is this what it takes to thrill you, Wendy Darling?" He whispered to her ear, his hand travelling to her juncture, hiking up the layers of her skirt.

She could feel the heat radiating from her face in embarrassment, "How indecent of you to-"

"Yes, my indecent little Darling."

Her retort was swallowed with a moan as he pressed a digit into her wetness, this thumb hot and insistent at the peak of her.

His tongue met with hers before he withdrew from the kiss, "Do you want them to hear?"

"No- _Ah!_ " He peeled down the fabric at the front of her with his hook, his mouth encasing her left breast.

"No?" Hook withdrew, "It sounds like it, dear Wendy. So tell me, what do you want?" The steel of his hook was now cold and unrelenting against her sensitive nipple.

"Y-you," she quivered near her release, her knees growing weak beneath her.

"Right here, beneath the steps? But, what of decorum?" He teased.

"Take me." Ah, he knew that look well; frustration. How delicious it felt to see from the other side.

"As you wish," he smiled, lifting her against the wall, releasing himself and plunging into her well-prepared body.

She moaned into the woolen shoulder of his coat at his entry. She found that the fabric stifled her noise quite well, since she couldn't seem to keep it behind her teeth. How did this feel so much better than before? Did it simply get better and better each time? How had anyone kept a job? All these thoughts were knocked from her head as he drilled into her against the resistance of the wooden wall.

"Wendy," he kissed her neck as he held her with his good arm, using the wall for leverage, "Wendy."

Her head lulled back in pleasure, "James, I'm going to-" she took a breath in as her moan was quieted by his mouth, persistent against hers. Stars exploded behind her eyes and she shook in the afterglow. His pumping grew faster, more erratic, and if she were paying any sort of attention she would know he wasn't far behind. Hook withdrew and emptied with a shudder against her thigh. With her feet on the floor again, she regained some of her senses, feeling the heat of him trickling down her leg. She was intrigued to find that she liked it, the mess of himself displayed upon her.

He retrieved a handkerchief from inside of his coat and cleaned her reverently. He kissed her bare thigh with a winded breath, " _How indecent_."


	28. Chapter 28

"Tell me a story, little Wendy," Hook purred as his good hand toyed with her curls.

"Little?" she looked up from her novel as they lay side by side on the bed.

"Place your hand against mine," the captain smiled. She raised a brow. "Go on, this one's no danger: no hook."

"I wouldn't quite say that." She did as he desired, the tips of her fingers lining up with the first creases of his ringed knuckles. He folded the tips off his fingers over hers. For a moment she felt small.

"Little."

"What shall I call you then?" she teased, "Big Hook?"

The teeth gleamed from his smile, "That _does_ sound intimidating, doesn't it?"

"Oh, you!" she tried to swat him, but he held her hand fast, imparting a kiss on the back of her palm. "You don't want a story now, do you?"

"I do." He brought her palm to the stubble on his cheek, "I would like to hear your story."

"…My story?"

"You were speaking to the crew of London before, and it made me think: I know nothing of you outside of this island."

Her heart thrummed. "Why would you want to hear such frivolous things? Just as soon as I've told you it will be something completely different back home, what with the passage of time."

"Home," the word was rusty on his tongue. "Do you still think of it as such?"

She swallowed, "It always will be, in a way. It's where I grew up. What do you think of England?"

His thumb was rubbing her palm, feeling her with all of the digits he had left. "They say home is where your heart lies, and I wouldn't leave mine to lay in ruins."

She considered his past for a moment. "What would you consider home then, Neverland?"

"Heavens, no," he scoffed. "If it was where my heart were anchored I would have to say… with you."

Their eyes locked for a moment. "Isn't it supposed to be the sea; I mean, aren't you a pirate?" was all that her foggy mind could articulate.

"I'm a man." His eyes were searching hers for something she didn't yet comprehend.

"I don't understand," she implored.

His smile was tinged with words unsaid. "Grown, yet still little," he held her cheek in his palm, "my Wendy," as he brought her into a lasting kiss.

As the two lay entangled in each other's arms, Wendy spoke of her mother, her father, her brothers, her dog and the friendliness of the home she had left behind. Her eyes were watery, but her heart was warmed with recollection. Such recollection would not have effected Hook in the same fashion, but he was happy to close his eyes and imagine the childhood she had been afforded. If he'd had a child, he would have wanted it to grow in such a nurturing- _Dear Lord_ \- he opened his eyes in fright.

"What is it, James?" Wendy stopped her story when she gleaned his pale face.

He ran a hand through his hair. This affection was far worse than he'd thought. "I've just envisioned something I'd never hoped to see," he swallowed. "Perhaps we should stop all this family talk."

"All right," she laughed, "you're a funny one. Would you rather I tell you the story of the seven hundred foot sea monster?"

"That would be more apropos," He nodded. But no matter how much detail she poured into the scales and claws, he couldn't get the image of a smiling Wendy with a black haired babe on her hip out of his head.

 

* * *

 

They followed course as usual, chasing that second star to the right straight on until morning. Yet the Neverland that they perceived in the morning light was not as usual. Hook surveyed from his spyglass. It was as if the island had taken sick, he'd never seen the palm fronds so spotted and grey. The waters had lost their cerulean hue, pumping like a clogged artery against the seaweed strewn shore. It was as if this was Neverland's true face, Pan's true face, revealed to be the nightmare it truly was.

Wendy nearly fainted as she stepped out from the captain's quarters in the early hours. "What- what happened?" She looked as pale as the shores.

"I've never seen this," Hook collapsed his spyglass. "Something's wrong." The crew looked on with the same dismal disbelief. "Wendy, get below deck," the captain voiced with quiet urgency.

"But what about-"

"Please." His blue eyes were stark against the dreary backdrop. James was asking her, not her Captain.

Fear of the unknown coiled in her belly. "All right. Be safe."

Their eyes held one another as she slowly shut the cabin door and descended the steps.

" **MEN!** " Hook shouted from his stand on the rigging. "We are dealing with something far sinister than we first perceived. We have let the enemy think this was a game, we have grown soft. As you can see, this is no game. This witchcraft could bring an end to us, and the world outside! Pan has cast off his charade. It's time we cast ours off as well. _Are you with me?_ "

" **HOORAH!** " The men chanted, fists and weapons raised in unison.

"This is our fight for humanity!" Hook unsheathed his sword and held it high, "Let us **begin!** " Across the ship, men busied themselves with preparations for war.

 

* * *

 

Wendy's bare feet padded down the wooden steps, her blue nightgown trailing behind her. She bit at her nail, a nervous habit, as she made her way to the crew's quarters. There, a young man was swinging back and forth in a hammock, his feet pushing him as his face was sorrowfully buried in his hands.

"Oh! Excuse me, I didn't know anyone was down here," she murmured nervously. The poor boy must have been afraid of war. Although, he reminded her of her brother in a way. As such, she felt a certain compulsion to comfort him. Wendy cautiously stepped forward and placed her hand on his head. "There, there, it's all right. No need to cry." How strange for a boy to have such ashen hair and pallid skin.

"Wendy?" the boy stopped crying and looked up at her with chestnut eyes. "Wendy!" his tears came anew as he wrapped his arms around her midsection and buried his face in her sternum.

"Peter!" she gasped as she looked at the colorless figure before her. "What happened to you?!"

"You were gone, Wendy! Gone so long!" he wailed. "Nothing was fun anymore!" he sniffed. "This water started falling from my eyes and it won't stop." He looked up at her, "Make it stop!"

Her heart froze in her throat. "But, what about Tink and the Lost Boys? Didn't they make you feel any better?"

"Tink's lost her color too! Now she just lays there!" His tears were seeping through the fabric, down to her chest.

"And the Lost Boys?" she struggled to remain calm.

"They went with Tiger Lily's tribe. There was no food. They took boats out of Neverland when the crops faded," He sobbed. " _Wendy, I'm so alone!_ "

All of them; gone! Her mind stalled in processing the new information. At least, she assumed, they were safe. Tink would be okay, right? Everyone aboard the ship believed in fairies. Think, think. This all has to do with Peter's emotions, this island. Everything here has responded to his moods. We just have to get him to be happy again… But, then, won't he go out and steal more children?

Peter's cold hands grew rigid around Wendy's upper arms as he stopped crying. "Wendy… you've changed."

"W-what do you mean, Peter?" Her heart accelerated.

"You're one of _them_ now," he looked her over with betrayal bordering on disgust, "You're an **adult!** "

He couldn't possibly have known- there was no way he- "No, Peter, I'm still me. I swear."

He stood, his hands still firmly wrapped around her biceps, "Don't lie to me, Wendy!" He gave a pained expression, "I can tell!"

"Peter," she soothed, "Peter, it's okay if I am an adult, right? Does that really change anything?"

"It changes everything, Wendy," his voice hitched as his fists tightened, "now I can never catch up to you..."


	29. Chapter 29

"That old cod fish did something to you, _didn't he?_ " Peter eyed her grievously.

"Captain Hook has treated me very well," Wendy dissented.

"I can smell **him** on you, all booze and smoke."

"Well, yes, we've spent a lot of time together aboard the ship," she squirmed.

"Did he touch you, Wendy? …The way fathers touch mothers?"

"Peter!" she flushed aghast, "How do you know about that?"

"I saw it once; two parents through an open window. Is that what makes you an adult? Is that what it would take to be where you are, Wendy?" His eyes desperately sought her face.

"Peter, it's okay to not be an adult," her voice trembled. "Being just the way you are is fine."

"No!" He shook his head like a spoiled child before he pressed his lips to her clavicle, "I want to be with _you_." Wendy winced at his contact. Her childhood dream had become a nightmare.

"She will never be with you, **boy**." Hook stood at the entrance to the cabin, sword drawn.

"James!" Wendy struggled in Peter's grip.

"Take your hands off her, Pan." The captain ordered, a storm in his eyes.

"I won't!"

"Please, Peter, you're hurting me!" her arms were purpling under his grasp.

"You heard the girl," he barked, "unhand her."

" _Not until she's made me an adult!_ "

Hook threw back his head in laughter. "Don't you see? You'll never be a man! Such an honor is not bestowed from someone else, it comes from within yourself! It comes with time and experience. If you cannot gather that, you're even more of a _child_ than I thought."

Peter gave a scream of anger as he flew at the pirate, the steel of his dagger clashing against the sword.

Wendy collapsed to her knees in shock. This was it, there was no way that one wouldn't kill the other in this fight. And it had been her fault, it had been all her fault for coming back to this wretched island. In search of solace she had catalyzed annihilation. She had to do something. She had to make Peter understand…

The steel clanged, as it had so many times before, as Hook and his foe stepped up the wooden planks, still locked in battle. This was where James noticed something, Pan's feet were making contact with the stairs. "You can't fly now..." he marveled, "can you?"

Peter gave a cry of frustration as he kicked Hook in the chest, through the cabin doors. The force sent the captain skidding on his back above deck. The area was still sore from healing, but he recovered quickly. "Of course not!" James caught Pan's descending dagger with his hook. "You've discovered the possibility of being young, alone, and done for!"

The rest of the crew stood back in awe at the appearance of the strange, pale boy. They all had weapons at the ready, and some were itching to join the fight; but Smee put out his hand to order a halt. As he observed the two before him, as he had for so long, he knew this would be an end to their journey. The bittersweet sorrow was mirrored on his face. Nothing could last forever: not even Neverland.

"Shut it, you old cod fish!" Peter yowled as he punched Hook straight across the face, "You always talk too much. **You're no fun anymore!** "

" _We aren't your playthings!_ " Wendy cried out from the top of the steps, her face splotched red and fresh with indignant tears.

"…Wendy?" Peter croaked in confusion.

"Take your hands off the man I love." Her voice and eyes were determined.

"Love?" Peter looked at his adversary's face which appeared just as lost as he was, although in a different type of fog he couldn't comprehend.

"That's right Peter. I love him. I have for a while now." She stepped forward.

Pan turned towards her, "But that thimble you gave me… That must mean you love me too!"

"No, Peter!" she shook her head. "You can't force love. I came here for the very fact that a person must be free to choose. And I have chosen him. No matter how long you trap me in a tree house, or smother me with furs, or mold me to be your ideal mother; no matter what the past held between us, my heart will always belong to him..." She implored him from under her wet lashes, "Do you understand?"

The two exchanged a lasting glance, searching one another. " **NO!** " Peter broke the silence, "I don't understand. _I don't believe you!_ " He turned on Hook once more. "You must have done something! What did you do to my Wendy, _you old cod fish?!_ "

"As you heard," James stood with a new pride, "the girl is not yours. And I pity you," he looked down at the boy in earnest, "because I love her just as much as she loves me."

Wendy gave a raw smile through her tears.

Spiteful, jealous cries came from Pan once more as he drove on against the pirate, going at him with everything he had. But, as the crew bared witness, the perpetual child was running out of steam. The boy slipped in his attack and fell to his knees in front of Hook, the pointed sword pressed against his throat. "I will give you one choice Peter Pan: **leave us** now and forever more, or I shall send you back to the abyss from whence you came."

Peter glanced once more at Wendy, his chest moving rapidly with exertion. She nodded at him with mournful eyes, hands tangled in prayer. For if he didn't make the correct choice, she would be delving the final blow. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes holding something akin to apology, as he turned to swipe at his opposition once more.

 _ **"I don't believe in you, Peter Pan!"**_   She clenched her eyes shut and hid her face behind her hands.

There was a collective gasp aboard the Jolly Roger as the once chestnut eyes of Peter Pan became a voided gray. The child had stalled in his movement, his arched arm frozen in time. As Hook looked down in utter confusion, a breeze began to blow upwards from the faded palm trees, across the murky waters, over the black flag, and through Peter Pan himself. It was as Hook had promised, he was delivered from whence he came. All that remained of the boy now was the dust of a star.


	30. Chapter 30

James Hook fell to his knees, his scabbard and sword hitting the deck with a clatter. The crew looked on with slack jawed silence. No one dare move a muscle until the captain's say-so. It was over. Everything he had fought for, for so many years, had come to an end. His only hope was that his effort avenged his family. _Family… Home…_ That was right, "Wendy," he breathed as he slowly lifted his hand.

"Captain!" she cried as she ran to him, toppling James onto his back with the force of her love. Her lithe body was wrapped around his completely, tears staining his collar.

"It's over, Wendy," he soothed her with his palm on her crown. "We're free!" his arms tightened around her waist. "…You're free now," he sat up with her still cradled in his lap, "to love whomever you wish."

"It's you I love!" she urged before his lips claimed hers.

"Say it once more," he pulled back with a grin.

" _I love you_ ," she cooed.

"And I you," he gave her a genuine smile, freed from all worry. As they kissed, Hook felt as a boy once more, picking up life where he had left it in the cold grasp of revenge so many long years ago.

Smee brought an old handkerchief to his eye, still monogrammed with the stitching of his belated wife. "Hip, hip!" He held it high.

"HOORAY!" The crew shouted in unison, weapons and fists toasting to the captain and his lady love. To the end of the sprite who had plagued them, pitting boy against man.

"Hip, hip!"

" **HOORAY!** "

 

* * *

 

 

The color had returned to the flora, and the once absent fauna had taken over the land. Everything was more muted than it once had been, the water more of a salted grey than the once clear blue. Nothing shone or sparkled to catch your eye. Wendy didn't have to look to know she would not find mermaids in the water; there would be no treehouse, no Lost Boys. Although, if the captain had asked her to swim in these waters she would have readily declined. The island was now just another island. Yet, there would be no charting it on the map: Captain's orders. No one need return to the cursed shores. This night, with torches blazing, they would celebrate their victory by stepping onto the sands of what was once Neverland for the last time.

Hook was dressed in his most ostentatious attire, looking as a king with a trailing velvet cloak lined in fur, his boots new and freshly polished. And that hat, the one she recalled from childhood dreams, still sporting a downy feather. He bowed regally in their cabin as he presented Wendy with a dress that was fit for a queen. For a moment she felt as one; soon setting foot on their newly claimed land. Her fingers traveled over the satin ribbons, the pearls and crystals sewn into the outer layer of lace. The heels, though not practical, reminded her of something Cinderella would wear. Had her captain ever heard the story? Perhaps she would tell him the tale.

Hand in hand, with apparel on and curls neatly arranged, the two lead their crew down the gangplank onto the moonlit shores. A smartly dressed Smee, with thinning hair combed and parted, showed them to the long table where the pirates had prepared a feast. There was pheasant and hog, with all manner of tropical fruit. The Captain and his lady sat at the head of the table as they raised their goblets of fine wine in victory. The crew followed suit, digging into the food before them.

But what, Wendy couldn't help but wonder, whatever would happen when the feast had ended? Where would they go? Who would they be if no longer the fearsome foes of Peter Pan? With his glass resting below his curled mustache, and a faraway look in his eyes, James Hook was wondering just the same.

* * *

 

"I could be your London boy," Hook whispered as the two walked barefoot along the shore, the crew lost in their merriment in the distant glow of the torches.

She looked up at him with a gentle smile, drawing her hand over his high cheek bones, his lush lips, down to the point of his goatee. "You look awfully like a pirate."

He kissed the back of her hand, "And you look like a queen, a queen I would dutifully serve. Why, you could inspire the envy of the court!"

She tittered, "Perhaps then, we shouldn't go back." The two took a moment to stare at the moon dancing on the water, the waves lapping at the shore. "A view such as this is not likely to be found in London."

"But, what of your family?"

"I feel that my brothers have long known where I've gone. They would have found a way, just as I had, if they were in need of me. Perhaps they have already parted from this world. I know not the year or the day… My parents would have been happy I'd found such a rich man," she gave a sad laugh, "no matter where his wealth may be from. If I went back, it would be just as you've done, to simply look upon the world and know that I am not a part of it. We are where we are meant to be."

"One home, one family, in each other." James tangled his ringed fingers in hers.

"Wherever the wind may take us," she looked up him, "my captain."

"Co-captain." Hook corrected, "You made the offer your very first day on the island."

"Oh," Wendy grinned as the two took slow strides in tandem back towards the feast, "I wonder what the crew will think of that…"

The time could be now, it could be far past, or fated in the future. But if you find yourself lost at sea, take a look and listen. For the Jolly Roger may still be out there. And piratesdo exist.


End file.
